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NOTES ON PUBLIC SPEAKING 



FOR THE CLASSES IN PUBLIC SPEAKING 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY 



JAMES ALBERT W1NANS 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR (IN CHARGE) 
OF ORATORY AND DEBATE 



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Copyright, 1911 
by j. a. winans 






JOUHNAL PRINT, ITHACA, N. 



CI.A280170 



CONTENTS 



Introduction 



Purpose, 3. Fundamental ideas and methods, 4. Advantages of 
the training, 5. A personal statement, 8. 

CHAPTER I. 

Problem of Delivery, in General — Conversing with an Audience . 10 

Private and public speech compared, 10. Being "natural," 16. 
Mental conditions in conversation, 17, to be accentuated on the plat- 
form, 18. Absent-mindedness in reading, in speaking, or extempore, 
19. Soliloquizing delivery, 21. Limitations of the doctrine, 24. Me- 
chanical systems, 25. Imitation, 27. 

CHAPTER II. 

Attention — Further Analysis of Mental Action 30 

Nature of attention, 30. Phrasing, 31. Centering, 35. Pausing, 36. 
Relations of ideas, 37. Method distinguished from the mechanical, 39 
Illustrative selection, 41. 

CHAPTER III. 

Development of Attention 43 

The battle of ideas for attention, 43. Forms of attention, 44. Effect 
of one's "store of knowledge," 46. Concreteness, 48. Sustaining at- 
tention, 52. Practical applications, to preparation, 53; to delivery, 
56; to interpretation of selections, 58. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Imagination 60 

Forms of imagery, 60. Variations of individuals, 61. Reasons for 
encouraging imagery, 61. Verbal thinking, 62. Imagination and 
reality, 64. Limitations of imagination, 65. Applications, 66. Illus- 
tration, 69. 



CHAPTER V. 

Feeling 72 

Importance of, 72. Sincerity, 73. Control of feeling, 73. James- 
Lange theory of emotion, 74. Associations, 75. Practical suggestions, 

74, 75. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Attention of the Audience — A Chapter of Fragments 78 

Audience must be considered, 78. Means of gaining attention, 7o. 
Association, 79. Concreteness, imagination, 80. Persuasion, 82. Ref- 
erences for persuasion, 83. Feeling and persuasion, 83. Persuasion 
not an isolated or unusual element, 84. Personality and attitude, 85. 
Persuasion not trickery, 86. Prejudices, 87. Introductions; specific 
problems, 87. Persuasive force of ideas, 88. Suggestion, 89. Plans 
and outlines, 89. Coherence, force, unity, simplicity, 91. Point of 
view, 93. Illustrative outlines, 94. Originality, 96. Bibliography, 98. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Gksture 100 

Value of gesture, 100, 102. Origin of, 101. Universality of, 102. Bad 
effect of repression, 103. Gesture should spring from impulse; first 
stage of training, 104. Poise, 105. Exercises for poise, 106. Second 
stage of training; more definite suggestions, 107. Self-consciousness, 
108. Third stage of training; exercises and criteria, 109. Movements 
on platform, 110. Platform manners, Hi. References, 112. Refer- 
ences for voice training, 113. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Study and Delivery of Selections 114 

Limitations on use of, 114. Benefits from use of, 114. Objections 

to impersonation for beginners, 115. Criticism of high school work, 

116. Sources of, 118. Qualities of good selections, 119. Scheme of 
study, 121. 

In Conclusion 126 



INTRODUCTION. 

With the call for public speakers from pulpit, bar, stump aud 
lecture platform remaining undiminished, and with the large addi- 
tional call in these latter days from ever-multiplying organizations 
with their meetings, conventions and banquets, it comes about that 
there is today greater opportunity and demand for speech-making 
than ever before. The average man finds it greatly to his advantage 
in civic, organization and business affairs, to be able to stand up and 
speak his mind ; while any man who is known to have something of 
interest to say, or who has in any way aroused favorable public at- 
tention, will be fairly dragged upon the platform. Thus it comes 
about that never before did so many untrained and ill-prepared men 
find themselves upon their legs facing audiences, not unfrequently 
to the regret of both parties. While many work out their own sal- 
vation, literally with fear and trembling, more have but scanty suc- 
cess. 

I am in the process of preparing a book in which I aim to help 
the ordinary man meet the demands and opportunities of speech- 
making. Comparatively little has been written with just this end 
in view. There are many books on oratory in its loftier phases ; but 
these are of little use to beginners. There are suggestive books by 
veteran speakers, but these rarely take up the problems of delivery 
and preparation in a systematic way. There are books and books on 
elocution, reading and acting, many of which profess to treat of 
public speaking; but they are filled with elaborate artificial sys- 
tems, impressive in their intricacy, but misleading in their promises ; 
or if valuable for the arts named, these treatises offer little enough 
for the public speaker, for the reason that these arts have little in 
common with public speaking ; that is, with the preparation and de- 
livery of the original speech. 

To help the beginner one must treat of both preparation and 
delivery. I have taken delivery first, because the beginner is usually 
most worried about delivery, which seems to him a very terrible 
affair ; and, also, because he must begin at once to deliver speeches 
if he is to discover the nature of speech-making, to realize its prob- 
lems and its spirit. My first concern is to lead him to see that after 
all talking in public is a not at all remarkable act, merely the de- 
velopment of a very familiar act. But it must be a development; 



hence we must not stop with some vague notion of being natural, 
but pass on to a study of this development. Some semi-technical 
matters must be discussed, without getting into these so far that we 
lose our sense of proportion. At the same time we must not be too 
fearful of doing some things that seem for the time artificial; for 
faults must be realized and fought in a definite way. We must not 
defend our mannerisms as nature. And we must try to improve on 
nature. Why not? We do in every other activity. 

We must avoid the artificiality of the mechanical school and the 
vagueness of the merely impulsive. The greater danger is in the 
former. These notes are based firmly on the belief that " right 
speaking depends upon right thinking. ' ' But we cannot rest with 
that; we must proceed to discover how thinking can be improved 
and developed. After that, or along with that, it may be in order 
to give more direct attention to the technical and semi-technical 
phases of our subject. We shall not find much space for them in 
this pamphlet. They have been so fully treated by such writers as 
Dr. S. S. Curry, an authority upon voice training and the oral in- 
terpretation of literature, that there is little wisdom in going far 
with what would necessarily be a poorer treatment. 

Perhaps along about the end of Chapter IV. some students will 
feel that so much work is suggested that the task is hopeless. It is 
quite true that complete preparation may take years. When great 
speeches have been made with apparently little preparation, as in 
the classic instance of Webster's Reply to Hayne, they have really 
sprung from years of study, experience and discussion, in which 
materials have not only been amassed but formulated. "Young 
man," said Webster sternly to a conceited youth, "there is no such 
thing as extemporaneous acquisition ! ' ' 

Granting that the suggestions of the following pages cannot be 
carried out ideally, in ordinary cases, still it is better to know what 
might be done, in order that we may work wisely and not fail to 
work for lack of knowing there is something to do. But after all 
much can be done in the time ordinarily at our disposal, especially 
if we begin early and give time for assimilation, instead of forcing 
through the preparation at the last moment. And it is better to 
make a few good speeches than many superficial ones. Besides, 
each speech need not be in a new field. Every educated man should 



know a good deal about a few subjects, and he can stick to those. 
Then for each speech he has a foundation and can give all his time 
to special preparation on the chosen phase. It is indeed rather 
hopeless when a speaker starts out with no initial interest or knowl- 
edge to speak on a topic he has chosen only because he must speak 
on something. But even then he can, if he will, gain the needed 
knowledge and interest, and it seems to me a beneficial exercise for 
those who confess to no interests. Though there are many college 
students who disclaim interest in all possible topics, frequently this 
is only a pose and more frequently is due to an idea that none of 
their real interests will do for themes. Ordinarily such a student is 
overlooking a good theme right at hand, of which he has real knowl- 
edge and in which he has personal interest. 

Perhaps at some point, a reader exclaims, " Why so many words 
to tell us what any sensible man knows, — that a speaker should have 
a mastery of his subject before he speaks?" Perhaps as an abstract' 
proposition no one will question this truth ; but practically the need 
of emphasis is great. Some seem to think they can succeed by mere 
tricks of delivery and a few smart sayings ; and they are content 
with the cheapest success. The majority, more sincere, do yet prac- 
tically ignore the truth, for the reason that they do not know what 
should be done. From the lower grades up, they have been forming 
the habit of copying matter from books, with a little condensing and 
re-arranging, and handing it in to satisfy the unceasing demand for 
compositions and "papers." The emphasis which is laid upon 
methods of preparation is due to the experience of nearly twelve 
years in attempting to teach college students to speak in a genuine, 
sincere way. 

Xow some older critic demands, with triumphant air, "If it is 
so difficult to lead students to speak with genuine interest, why have 
them speak at all? Why not wait till they get interested? Then 
they will speak well enough. If they do not get interested, let them 
keep still ! ' ' All this is so plausible a half-truth that answer cannot 
be made in a word. In the first place, young men will not keep still : 
they are bound to express themselves in some way, good or bad. 
Some will express themselves well ; very many, if they are not helped 
to express themselves simply, directly and sincerely, will express 
themselves badly. If they do not fix good habits, they are likely to 



fix bad habits. Very many have been taught to speak in an absurd 
way; they bring bad habits to college. If any one questions this 
statement, let him attend a few of the innumerable speaking exhibi- 
tions in the schools. "Without any teaching, also, many form atro- 
cious habits by imitating cheap but showy "orators." Strangely 
enough, some of those who most decry the study of public speaking 
are much given themselves to the declamatory style. Having little 
respect for the art, they assume that superficiality and "bluff" are 
the requisites. 

Young men should express themselves. From the cradle up we 
develop through self-expression. Our keenest gratification comes 
from self-expression. This takes many forms, but surely not the 
least of these is speech. Moreover, to stand before one 's fellows and 
try to influence and control them, is to develop personality and 
leadership. We learn through self-expression. "No impression 
without expression," says William James in his Talks to Teachers 
(p. 33) . "Nothing is ever true to any man until he has formulated 
it for others," says Professor William Harder Squires. And this 
expression must not be put off till the plastic years are passed, 
waiting till deep study and large experience may have combined to 
furnish a commanding interest. Not only will the development be 
one-sided, but also facility in expression will be lacking; for the 
assumption that whoever has something to say will say it well, is, as 
Cicero says, "plausible but not true." It is only a great half-truth. 
At any rate, it often fails to be true. It would seem to be enough 
to call to mind the boredom we all suffer from lecturers who really 
have something to say, but who struggle most painfully in the say- 
ing of it. Even when we do listen for the sake of the message, there 
is great waste of attention. 

And finally, will it not be valuable training to follow out the 
teachings of the chapters which follow? Is there any valid reason 
why students should not develop interests and go about it method- 
ically? Will they not be getting valuable "by-products" in the 
way of mental training and control, both in preparation and on the 
platform? For my part, I reckon the educational value of our 
courses above the practical, if such a distinction is valid. Heaven 
f orfend that I should increase public speaking in the world ! I con- 
duct courses for the suppression of public speaking, — of bad public 



speaking, and most of it is bad. It is not decrease of respect for the- 
art that is needed, however, but increase. If we had the respect of" 
the ancients, we should be far more careful in our preparation.. 
While in the following pages I present the act of delivering a public- 
speech as perfectly normal, I hope no student will finish his study 
with the conviction that it is a light thing to hold the attention for 
ten minutes or an hour of a hundred or a thousand people. 

There is no royal road to success as a speaker. No attempt is 
made in these pages to reveal some way of making sound do for 
sense, or glibness for thinking. The "gift of gab" is rarely lacking 
in college students. The attempt to substitute delivery for ideas can 
result only in bombast and affectation. Delivery should be judged 
good only as it interprets and impresses ideas and feeling. But we 
must recognize that bad delivery may spoil a speech otherwise good, 
and good delivery may make fair subject-matter more effective than 
excellent matter badly delivered. There must be "a man behind 
the speech," something to say worth saying, and the ability to say 
it well. 

To those who fear that the study of public speaking will lead to 
affectation, let me say that depends entirely upon how it is done. 
The trouble has been that attention has been too exclusively directed 
to delivery as an end in itself. The means has been mistaken for the 
end; hence affectation and distortion. If we keep the audience in 
mind, consider delivery and all else that goes to make a speech, only 
as means to the ends of conviction and persuasion, then public 
speaking can be studied as safely as any art. Moreover, the study of 
delivery has been much too mechanical : the student's mind has been 
kept for a year or more upon posture, voice, emphasis and the like, 
until he has come to feel that these matters constitute the whole of 
public speaking, and he has failed to realize the real business of the 
speaker. Without neglecting the development of every means of 
expression, all technical and semi-technical work can be so subor- 
dinated that artificiality can be avoided. Or, if it does appear for a 
time, since many faults cannot be removed without self-conscious- 
ness, this is a stage that passes away because the student has a 
normal view of his work. 

There is little use in addressing those who hold all study of 
public speaking wrong. There are always those who believe, or 



affect to believe, that we do things better without trying. Often 
their argument is accompanied with, "I never studied speaking." 
Or, they point to this and that successful speaker. Of course men 
can learn to speak in various ways. Much of their training, in any 
case, must come from practical experience. We can only give them 
a good start. The same is true of doctors, lawyers, engineers and 
priests. We can give young speakers their initial experience with 
a minimum of embarassment ; we can give them sound principles 
and methods, and we can drive out of them false ideas. We can 
from many a blunder free them and foolish notion. And we can 
give them, what it is almost impossible to get elsewhere, criticism at 
once honest and competent. And the simple fact is that our stu- 
dents do succeed in learning to speak in a Way which does not need 
radical modification, but chiefly development, in practical life. 

I said that I am in the process of preparing a text. I here offer but 
an incomplete fragment. I print it thus, with all its imperfections, be- 
cause it is needed in my classes. It is needed, first, because for fixing 
such principles the printed word is superior to the spoken; secondly, be- 
cause printed notes save time which can be utilized to give the students 
more opportunity. I know of no poorer use of time in a class than lec- 
turing, unless one is a notable specialist in an informatory subject. If 
our classes serve no other purpose, they justify their existence in giving 
the students a chance in these days of the student-silencing lecture sys- 
tem. And it is impossible to make speakers of students by talking to 
them. Practice and drill, — these are what count. Nevertheless, there 
must be some discussion of theory and method in order that we may work 
wisely and in harmony. I print the notes incomplete because I have no 
more matter ready. And I print this much now, also, because I wish to try 
it on. Suggestions for improvement will be thankfully received, whether 
accepted or not. 

I make no apology for venturing into the field of psychology, al- 
though I am a rank amateur. If "right speaking depends upon right 
thinking," we must study mental action. It is folly to disregard the work 
done by specialists in this field; yet little has been done in applying the 
truths of psychology to the teaching of public speaking. Scott's 
Psychology of Public Speaking has a most promising title and contains 
much of value; yet it is chiefly for the elocutionist and offers little to the 
public speaker. So far as I know, no other psychologist has undertaken to 
write upon the subject, and I have obtained more real help from a letter 
which Professor Titchener has had the great kindness to write in answer 
to some questions, and which he has given me permission to quote, than 
from anything printed directly upon the subject. My liberal borrowings 
from general works are, I believe, all duly credited where used. I wish to 



express my gratitude to my old teacher, William Harder Squires, Professor 
of Psychology and Pedagogics in Hamilton College, for a long interview in 
which we went over the matter in Chapters III. and IV., and to Guy Mont- 
rose Whipple, Assistant Professor of the Science and Art of Education in 
Cornell University, for a great deal of time which he has given me for 
discussion of the problems of educational psychology involved in Chapters 
III., IV. and V. I do not wish to throw any responsibility upon them 
for what they, of course, would have put quite otherwise; but with the 
assistance of these authorities, I believe we may escape fundamental 
error, although to a great extent we must go a-pioneering. I shall en- 
deavor to put all in the simplest form, which is not always the briefest 
and most direct; for I cannot assume that those to whom this discussion 
is addressed are familiar with even elementary psychology. 

I hope some day that a well-equipped psychologist will find time to 
make a real study of the foundations of this subject. Till then we must 
grope our way as well as we can. 

As for the other parts of the booklet, it would make too pretentious a 
beginning to so modest an effort, to try to name the various sources of 
suggestion, — books, teachers, fellow-workers and students. I have no fear 
that any one familiar with the literature of the subject will bring any 
charge of plagiarism. Their criticism will be of quite a different sort. 
Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, this is a subject in 
which nothing is as yet standard. Most of the ideas here put forth will be 
found suggested in many places; for instance, it it a hackneyed statement 
that public speaking should be conversational. But nowhere does one find 
this statement clearly worked out. 

I propose to add to these pages further discussion of gesture, the com- 
position of speeches, audiences, criticism, and some other topics of which 
experience may have given me a little special knowledge. And I shall 
bring all that I treat, including the study of selections, to bear upon prac- 
tical public speaking. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE PROBLEM OF DELIVERY , IN GENERAL CONVERSING WITH AN 

AUDIENCE. 

In order to get a true conception of the nature of our art, let 
us imagine all memory of speech-making to be blotted out of the 
world, so that there is no person who remembers that he has ever 
made a speech or has ever heard a speech. Let us blot out, too, all 
speeches and all references to speeches in literature, so that there 
is left no cue or clue to this art. Is this the end of speech-making ? 
Here comes a man who has seen a great race, or has been in a great 
battle, or is on fire with enthusiasm for a cause. He begins to talk 
with a friend he meets on the street ; others gather, twenty, fifty, a 
hundred. Interest grows intense; he lifts his voice that all may 
hear. But the crowd wishes to hear and see the speaker better. 
' ' Get up on this cart ! ' ' they cry • and he mounts the cart and goes 
on with his story or his plea. 

He is making a speech ; but under the circumstances imagined, 
no one thinks of it as other than a rather remarkable conversation. 
It does not seem abnormal, but under the circumstances quite the 
natural thing. "When does the talker or converser become a speech- 
maker ? "When ten persons gather ? Fifty ? Or was it when he got 
on the cart ? Is there any real change in the nature or spirit of the 
act? Is it not essentially the same throughout, a conversation 
adapted as the talker proceeds to the growing number of his hearers ? 
There may be a change, of course, if he becomes self-conscious ; but 
assuming that interest in story or argument remains the dominant 
emotion, there is no essential change in his speaking. It is probable 
that with the increasing importance of his position and the increas- 
ing tension of feeling that comes with numbers, he gradually modi- 
fies his tone and his diction, and permits himself to launch into a 
bolder strain and a wider range of ideas and feelings than in ordi- 
nary conversation ; but the change is in degree and not in kind. He 
is conversing with an audience. 

Nor is the situation essentially different if, instead of our 

10 



imagined case, our hero of field or forum is invited to speak before 
a society concerning his sport, or exploration, or social remedy, and 
this time he has notice beforehand, has prepared and speaks in a 
prepared room, a chairman introduces him, the hearers arrive at a 
fixed time and sit down in regular array. There are differences to 
be sure ; but these differences do not change the nature of the act of 
speech. r - 

I wish you to see that the act of public speaking is a perfectly 
natural act, which calls for no strange, artificial methods, but only 
for an extension and development of that most familiar act, con- 
versation^ If you grasp this idea you will be saved from much 
wasted effort. 

Students at various times have pointed out many differences 
between private and public speaking. Let us examine the more im- 
portant of these. First, it is said, a public speaker talks more 
loudly than one in conversation. Well, a public speaker, just as a 
private speaker, should speak so as easily to be heard. If you have 
occasion to speak to a person at the other end of a long table, you 
raise your voice. If you wish to speak across a noisy stream, you 
may have to shout. This would not be ordinary speaking to be sure, 
but it is still conversation and not at all abnormal. The difference 
is altogether a vocal one. You speak loud enough to be heard. 

Again it is said, the public speaker does all the talking; in con- 
versation there is a give and take. These statements are misleading 
and based upon a misconception of public speaking. There are 
many conversations in which one party does all or nearly all the 
talking. Because an old man talks continuously to a young man 
who listens respectfully, we do not say the old man is making a 
speech. Our imaginary speaker talked continuously before he got 
on the cart, with but little response from his hearers. Nor is it true 
that the public speaker does all the talking. The audience applauds 
and thereby says, "We approve." It may hiss and thereby say, 
"We disapprove." Questions may be asked and encouragement 
shouted. British audiences with their "Hear, hear," are much 
more inclined to take a hand than American audiences. But all 
these expressions are but audible signs of what is going on in any 
audience whether quiet or not. His auditors are thinking answers 
to the speaker's questions, or asking him questions, or assenting, or 

11 



making objections ; and the experienced speaker has learned to read 
less demonstrative, but no less certain signs of the thoughts and 
moods of his hearers. He can tell by attitude and facial expression 
whether the other party to this public conversation is interested or 
bored, approves or disapproves, understands or is puzzled, and he 
amplifies or drops a point in accordance with what he sees. The 
story is told of how Rufus Choate reiterated the arguments and 
pleas of one of his jury addresses for three hours after eleven men 
were won, until he saw the stern face of the twelfth juror relax in 
sympathy. Many a passage of good oratorical prose can be turned 
into dialogue by writing out the questions and objections that lie 
plainly between the lines. (See for example the selection from 
Curtis 's "Public Duty of Educated Men," at the end of Chapter 
II.) The young speaker can do nothing better for himself than 
to fix firmly in mind that public speaking is a dialogue and to em- 
phasize constantly the part of the audience, anticipating and watch- 
ing for its response. 

. A third difference is said to be that the public speaker prepares, 
while the converser speaks as things occur to him. It is true that a 
public speaker should prepare when there is opportunity ; but he is 
no less a public speaker because he is too indolent, or too busy, or 
is called upon too suddenly. Nor is a man less a converser because 
he prepares for a private conversation. Such preparation is by no 
means an unheard of thing. It should be said here that we are 
comparing public speech, not with a casual conversation, but with 
an earnest, purposeful conversation. 

Let us suppose a student is chairman of a committee formed, 
say, for resistance to the abolition of cherished holidays. This stu- 
dent has an appointment "with the President of the University for 
the purpose of presenting the views of the student body. He talks 
with his committee. One says, "This is a good argument to use." 
Another, "That is not the way to put it; this is the way to reach 
the President." After discussing the arguments, the chairman re- 
members that the President has promised him but ten minutes. He 
must cu,t out some points and find brief ways of presenting others, 
and by the time of his appointment he knows just about what he 
intends to say and how he will say it. We will suppose that the 
President says very little, simply listens attentively with but an 

12 



occasional question. We are assuming a wise student ; hence he will 
not take a loafing attitude or talk slang. He talks as directly and 
pointedly and in as good language as he can and stops on time. Has 
he made a speech or conversed ? Conversed, of course ; but he has 
sifted his ideas, adapted them to his hearer, and has not presumed 
upon his hearer's time. He has followed a method excellent for a 
public speaker. 

Suppose further, that at the end of the conversation the Presi- 
dent says, "Mr. Smith, I wish you would come to faculty meeting 
tomorrow and say there what you have here. ' ' At faculty meeting, 
our chairman has fifty or a hundred hearers. He has to raise his 
voice a bit, he stands up, perhaps no questions are asked till the end ; 
but if he has the good sense and self-control to talk to the faculty in 
the same spirit and largely in the same manner as when he spoke 
to the President alone, he will probably make an effective speech. If 
he adopts a rolling tone and an exaggerated manner, he will be 
ridiculous. 

It is all a matter of adaptation. If we are told that public 
speaking demands more dignity of manner or of language, the 
answer is already plain. It all depends on circumstances in private 
as well as in public speech. Our student talks on the same subject to 
a fellow student in a more free-and-easy style than to the President, 
and he talks to the faculty in a manner different from that he would 
employ in addressing a meeting of students. In a similar way can 
be met every point that is made to show that public speaking and 
private conversation are essentially different acts, and that there- 
fore the former calls for essentially different treatment. That there 
are conventional differences has nothing to do with our present 
discussion. 

Do not understand that I am advocating what is sometimes 
called the "conversational style." I advocate no style. The word 
style suggests too strongly that all should speak in one manner, 
while individuality is to be our key-note. The term "conversa- 
tional style" is further objectionable in that it seems to imply to 
many that we should speak in a careless, indifferent, indistinct tone. 
That is not at all what I wish to imply. I urge only that our 
public speaking should be conversational in its elements and 
that our method should be the development of conversation. Per- 

13 



different "sounds." It depends on the situation, the subject and 
the speaker. The same man may in discussing the weather, politics, 
literature, religion, have several different manners. He may be list- 
less while talking on your hobby, but while talking upon his own, 
impassioned. We should note, also, the possibility of getting a dis- 
torted conception of the style of a speaker like Webster because 
most of us read only isolated passages, and the lofty strain of an 
impassioned peroration may be very different from the body of the 
speech. Each part is fitted to its place. Nearly all have read Web- 
ster's apostrophe to the flag at the conclusion of the "Reply to 
Hayne ' ' ; few have read the four-hour address. Most school children 
have met with Webster's terrible description of the tortures of the 
murderer 's mind, so far from ordinary discourse ; but very few in- 
deed have read the whole of that masterly address to the jury in 
the trial of the murderer of Captain Joseph White. Read all and 
you will understand the assertion of one of Webster's contempo- 
raries that Webster talked to the jury as if he were a thirteenth 
juror who had just stepped out in front in order to address them 
better. Again we must remember that the conversational style of 
Webster, of whom Carlyle wrote, "No man was ever so great as 
Daniel Webster looked, ' ' and who made the British laborer exclaim, 
* ' By Jove, there goes a king, ' ' — that the conversation of such a man 
would not sound like that of more commonplace people. An ac- 
quaintance has told me that he was amazed by Roscoe Conkling's 
ability to pour out impromptu a lofty diction in the Senate or on 
the stump, until he knew Conkling personally and found that he 
never let down in his vocabulary. The grand style was his natural 
language. It is also true that the diction of the common man tends 
to become more elevated when speaking of elevated subjects, even 
in private conversation. 

To take an example of present day oratory, one of the greatest 
feats I have ever known was that of Mrs. Maud Ballington Booth 
who held for two hours and a quarter the intent attention of an 
audience at Cornell University, an audience surfeited with lectures. 
True, her story of work in the prisons was fascinating, but a touch 
of "orating" would have sent us to boredom in half the time. Of 
her speaking, a writer in "Lyceumite and Talent" for June, 1907, 
says: "She is delightfully quiet and undemonstrative on the plat- 

15 



haps there is no better way of making the point than by quoting 
( _what Thomas Wentworth Higginson has said of Wendell Phillips: 
j/J^The key-note of the oratory of Wendell Phillips lay in this: that 
it was essentially conversational — the conversational raised to its 
highest power. Perhaps no orator ever spoke with so little apparent 
effort, or began so entirely on the plane of his average hearers. It 
was as if he simply repeated, in a little louder tone, what he had 
just been saying to some familiar friend at his elbow. . . . The 
colloquialism was never relaxed, but it was familiarity without loss 
of dignity. Then as the argument went on, the voice grew deeper, 
the action more animated, and the sentences came in a long sonorous 
swell, still easy and graceful, but powerful as the soft stretching of 
a tiger 's paw. ' ' George William Curtis says of Phillips : " It was 
simple colloquy— a gentleman conversing. ' ' That there was no lack 
of power is evidenced by the storms he stirred up. The Richmond 
Enquirer, which detested his doctrine of abolition, said of him, ' ' He 
is an infernal machine set to music ! ' ' 

It is true that Phillips is called the great exemplar of the ' ' con- 
versational style, ' ' and that it is frequently said that since his time 
American public speaking has been reformed until, as Goldwin 
Smith says in his ' ' Reminiscences, ' ' you will go far to hear an old- 
time "spread-eagle" speaker such as were common fifty years ago. 
Not only is the pomposity of former days going, but also the old 
formality, and perhaps too much of the real dignity of earlier times, 
have disappeared along with the heavier private manners and speech 
of our fathers. Properly understood as referring to the speaking 
of today as compared with that of fifty or a hundred years ago, the 
term "conversational style" is unobjectionable. But that is not 
what we are considering. We should remember that it is not so 
much conversational style as conversational quality that we want. 
And this is no new thing ; but has been the quality of good speaking 
in every age, whether grand or simple. 

Perhaps you read the speeches of some great speaker, an orator 
like Webster, and say this does not sound like conversation. In the 
first place, the claim is not that public speaking should "sound" 
like conversation, certainly not like ordinary conversation ; but that 
it should be conversational in its elements. Conventional differences 
may make it sound very different. But then conversation has many 

14 



form. . . She has the perfect composure of a character wholly sub- 
merged in a message. . . She told me once that she never was con- 
scious of dropping a sense of conversation to stretch or crowd her 
voice." 

A good deal of space has been given to this discussion, because 
this conception is fundamental to all our work, and experience justi- 
fies the elaboration. Perhaps there are few that would maintain 
that public speaking is something far removed from other speaking ; 
but there are many who vaguely feel that there is a vast difference. 
As a consequence, they begin to speak in a strange tone, they adopt 
a manner stiff and pompous ; they talk over the heads of their audi- 
ence, vociferating loudly ; or perhaps they take a dull monotonous 
tone, lacking the lively communicative inflections of conversation. 
They may adopt a pompous diction in an abortive attempt to imitate 
Webster at his worst; or, what is strongest evidence of their per- 
verted conception, they endeavor to speak by a marvelous system of 
rules, which tell them when their voices should go up, when down, 
what words to emphasize, when to use guttural tones, when aspirate, 
and where to pause. 

The first thing the beginner has to do is to gain the power to 
stand upon the platform and talk with his audience J For many this 
is by no means easy. Our procedure should be to discover and then 
to accentuate the mental conditions of conversation. We cannot get 
off with the plausible advice, ' ' Be natural. ' ' It will be best that this 
phrase, ' l be natural," so constantly used as signifying all that is 
good, should be settled with before we proceed. What does it mean ? 
The savage is nearer to nature than the civilized man; yet he is 
hardly a model. The child is more natural than the adult. As 
Henry Ward Beecher says, if nature is the ideal we should remain 
children. It is natural to be bad as well as to be good. It is natural 
for some to stammer ; for others to strut ; for others to be afraid of 
audiences. Indeed, is it not natural for some to be affected? At 
least affectation comes without effort. It is certainly most natural 
for many on the platform to be most unnatural. The advocates of 
' ' Be natural, ' ' as an all sufficient guide are quite as likely as any to 
strut and bellow. 

It is manifest that we are juggling with various meanings of 
the word natural. It may mean (1) in a state of nature, untrained; 

16 



(2) unaffected, sincere, not artificial, or exaggerated; or (3) in ac- 
cordance with nature's laws, normal. The word as used generally 
is too loose for our purpose. If it is good to be natural in the first 
sense, then all education must be wrong. We wish to develop nature 
and remove defects, in speaking as in all else. Too often the plea 
of naturalness is made as a defense for faults. If your man- 
nerisms are objectionable to hearers or decrease effectiveness, they 
should be remedied if possible, whether "natural" or acquired. 
Most that we call natural is acquired habit. 

Taking the second meaning of natural, we shall find that the 
plausible advice, "Be natural," is difficult of application by the be- 
ginner, and that it is indeed "natural to be unnatural." Most be- 
ginners feel embarrassment. Even old speakers suffer and rarely 
face an audience on an occasion of importance without a strong 
feeling of tension. We can all remember private conversations in 
which we felt tension and embarrassment, and in which we became 
stiff and affected. At best the simple advice, "Be natural," is of 
but negative value, meaning for us, Don't consciously assume 
strange tones and manners. We shall have to look farther and find 
out how to be natural. Yes, learn to be natural; learn how to act 
in accordance with nature and develop habits that will hold us to 
the normal under the stress of the platform. Let us look more 
closely into the nature of conversational delivery, in order to learn 
what it is we have to develop and adapt to the platform. 

Why is it that a small boy in school reads " See-the-horse-on- 
the-hill, ' ' without a trace of meaning in his tone, and yet five min- 
utes later on the playground shouts the same words to his playmates 
with perfect expression? And why is it that if the teacher insists 
that Johnnie read over his sentence and get its meaning before 
reading it aloud, he will read with far better expression ? And why, 
if the teacher then asks him to stand facing his class and read or 
tell the story to them, does he read with really good expression? 
The reason for his first improvement is apparent: in his first read- 
ing all his mind is given to recognizing words as words. They are 
without content for him ; they bring no meaning, no picture to his 
mind. His expressionless voice is a true index of his impressionless 
mind; or rather, to be strict, his high strained tone expresses truly 
the anxious strain of his attention to the symbols before him. When 

17 



he grasps the meaning, expression comes into his voice. He not 
only understands, but if he has a marked success, he has more than 
bare understanding : the objects and incidents of which he reads are 
present to his imagination. The horse is to him a real and signifi- 
cant object at the instant he speaks the words. He has approached 
the conditions of his playground conversation. He is "thinking on 
his feet"; he creates, or re-creates, the thought at the moment of de- 
livery. 

But our small boy is still more successful in his reading when 
he was made to feel that he was reading or telling his story to his 
class mates. (His experience can be verified in any school where 
the most approved methods are employed. ) To throw the statement 
into a phrase we shall make much use of, Johnnie succeeds when he 
reads or speaks with a sense of communication. On the playground 
he has the most perfect expression of all, when with no thought of 
how he says things, he uses perfect tone, emphasis and inflection. 
Still the advice, "Be natural and forget your delivery," will be of 
little aid to the embarrassed beginner. We can forget only by turn- 
ing our attention to something else. Forget embarrassment then 
by holding your mind to your subject-matter and your business with 
your audience. Hold firmly to the conception that you are there to 
interest them, not in your speaking, but in your ideas ; to convince 
or persuade them. Look for their response. Stand behind your 
speech and embarrassment will disappear. As soon as you can carry 
out these injunctions, whatever your minor faults, you will be a 
speaker. 

To summarize, accentuate the mental conditions of conversa- 
tion, of which these are chief: 

(1) Full realization of the content of the words at the instant 
of delivery, and 

(2) A lively sense of communication. 

Put so simply these directions may strike some as needless. 
They may ask, "Do not all sensible speakers think as they speak and 
do they not realize that they speak to communicate ? ' ' Many years 
of observation convince me that these natural questions must be 
answered in the negative. The faults of absent-minded speaking 
and of soliloquizing speaking are very common. Young speakers 
too often look upon public speaking as an exhibition and older 

18 



speakers frequently fall into a perfunctory manner, especially those 
who speak frequently and at regular intervals. Moreover, many of 
those who do in a measure fulfil the conversational conditions, suffer 
from a wrong start. The man who begins his career as a speaker 
because he "has something to say which he wishes very much to 
say," and continues for the same reason until his habits are fixed, 
will come naturally to a genuine delivery. But if a speaker begins 
with the notions that he speaks to make an exhibition of his delivery, 
and that delivery is an external, mechanical thing to be manipulated 
according to rule, or in imitation of a model, he will probably de- 
velop an "orating" tone and other bad habits that will resist the 
force of even a strongly felt message and an eager audience. Un- 
fortunately most of us have begun our reading and speaking wrong 
and have the habit of perfunctory delivery. We began to read with 
all our attention on pronounciation, and to "speak pieces" we did 
not understand in order to make admiring aunts and jealous neigh- 
bors say : ' ' How splendid ! I heard every word ! ' ' when our delivery 
was really an abomination, — neither song nor speech. 

Perhaps it is more common to read than to speak absent- 
mindedly. The minister for example, reading hymn or scripture 
lesson, with his mind on his sermon or who has come to church, may 
proceed with but the vaguest consciousness of the meaning of what 
he reads and with no feeling that he is reading to answering minds. 
He may pronounce the words in a sonorous ministerial tone. And 
his congregation ? How rarely do they really listen ! If indifferent, 
they think of business or fashions ; if devout, they piously feel it is 
all good and true and are affected by sound regardless of sense, like 
the old lady who always wept when she heard "that blessed word, 
Mesopotamia." In many churches there is a feeling that nothing 
really counts but the sermon, and there is a notable shifting and 
coming to attention when sermon time comes. In those churches 
where the reading is of chief importance, the members of the con- 
gregation get the meaning, so far as they do, by following the ser- 
vice in their individual books. And all this is but the natural result 
of the perfunctory reading that prevails. When a preacher takes 
the pains to study out the significance of what he reads, throws off 
the ministerial tune, and reads as one who has thought to convey, 

19 



the congregation looks up with surprised interest and thinks, ' ' Why, 
really, what a remarkable chapter that is ! " 

I have spoken of reading, but absent-mindedness is almost as 
common in speaking. Nor is this confined to the speech delivered 
from manuscript. The speaker with manuscript in hand is peculi- 
arly tempted, because he does not keep his eye on his audience, and 
hence loses touch; and also because he has an easy substitute for 
thinking. Yet he can overcome his defects to a great extent. Read- 
ing from manuscript or book need not be level and monotonous, but 
may be lively and communicative if the reader exerts himself to 
think and to be direct. 

The reading speaker is not popular, but by no means all readers 
carry manuscript to the platform. The speaker who memorizes 
should succeed better than the speaker with manuscript ; for he can 
better keep in touch with his audience. As compared with the ex- 
temporaneous speaker, he is freed from the harassing necessity of 
choosing points, order and words from the many offering themselves, 
and can give all his mind to presenting his thought to his audience. 
Probably, much as we admire the ability to speak extempore and 
necessary as it is to the well-equipped speaker, most of the great 
speeches have been delivered memoriter. But too often one who 
delivers a memorized speech, really only reads, and reads badly, 
giving all his mind to recalling the words. This tendency to keep 
mere empty words uppermost, we must earnestly fight against. The 
method of memorizing is important and this will be treated later ; 
but the gist of the matter is /hold yourself to the thought first, last 
and all the time, and avoid the parrot-like repetition of words. 

Some hold that a speech committed to memory cannot be de- 
livered with spontaneity ; but observation proves that this is not 
true. Sears in his "History of Oratory," says of George William 
Curtis, one* of the best speakers of the last generation: "He prac- 
ticed that perfect memorization which has the virtues of extem- 
porization without its faults." Higginson tells this story of Wen- 
dell Phillips : 

"I remember that after his Phi Beta Kappa oration, in which 
he had so carried away a conservative and critical audience that they 
found themselves applauding tyrannicide before they knew it, I said 
to him, ' * This could not have been written out beforehand, ' and he 

20 



said. 'It is already in type at the "Advertiser" office.' I could not 
have believed it." 

It is all a matter of re-creating the thought, and it is a poor 
thought that cannot be thought more than once. A man in earnest 
will converse spontaneously enough though he has prepared even his 
words and has repeated them in a dozen different conversations. 
The chronic story teller often finds his adventure growing in thrills 
as the years go by. if only he can find new listeners. 

So indirect and monotonous is much of the speaking by the 
memorizing method, that it is widely condemned. The extempor- 
aneous method is most popular of all. It has faults and virtues 
which may be discussed later ; but here it is in order to point out 
that not even this method is free from the faults under considera- 
tion. We must all know by observation that it is quite possible to 
make a speech without clear thinking, as it is to converse without 
"knowing what we are talking about." The extemporizer's mind 
is more likely to be active ; but under the stress of choosing and re- 
jecting, he may fall into confusion. Any experienced speaker 
knows how possible it is to talk on without knowing at the end of a 
period what he has been saying. Extraneous thoughts come, — an 
engagement forgotten, will the train wait, disturbances in the audi- 
ence,— yet the speaker talks on, probably forming grammatical sen- 
tences, but rambling and "marking time." Again, the effort of 
thinking out a point not thoroughly mastered before, or considera- 
tion of a point now first presenting itself, may throw him into a 
reflective frame of mind ; his thought loses the active, objective char- 
acter needed. As a result he breaks contact with his audience and 
soliloquizes. 

The extemporaneous speaker, therefore, needs quite as much as 
others, .a firmly fixed habit of always holding his mind firmly to the 
matter in hand and of speaking directly to his audience. To fix this 
habit requires from most persons time and practice. The beginner 
has to develop his powers, as does the athlete, — powers which serve 
well enough for ordinary purposes, but not for extra strain. Until 
this habit is fixed and he has found himself as a speaker, the student 
should avoid all methods that tend to draw him away from the 
fundamentals. 

Perhaps more speakers fail in the second conversational ele- 

21 



IS" 



meut than in the first. If one speaks with a sense of communication, 
he is likely to have in mind what he wishes to communicate. The 
distinction between communicative and non-communicative speaking 
is not easy to put in words, but easy to feel. At times we hear a 
speaker, perhaps follow his thought, yet do not feel he has business 
with us. If he asks questions, we do not feel provoked to reply even 
mentally. We are not participators, but idle spectators. There is 
lack of challenge to our attention. 

Ex-President Eoosevelt is a speaker of notable directness. 
Those accustomed to the more ornate style of speaking common 
forty years ago, used to . say, ' ' Roosevelt is no orator ' ' ; but they 
have had to admit that he is a wonderfully effective speaker and 
campaigner. The challenge to respond is constant as he speaks; 
and sometimes he will say, "What do you think of that?" or 
"Isn't that good?" And on one notable occasion he repeated a 
sentiment and commanded, "Now applaud that!" His audience 
must take part. 

We may follow a speaker who lacks directness of delivery, from 
sheer interest of subject-matter, or from a sense of duty; but our 
attention is not due to delivery. Such attention is wearying and 
can hardly be expected from the average audience. The thought 
may be worthy, the language fitting ; the delivery may be otherwise 
good, — voice clear and pleasing and the modulation true; and yet 
lacking the communicative element, the speaking does not reach 
or grip. It may be the speaker is thinking intently, but lacking 
touch with his audience, his speech is only soliloquy. We say of a 
speaker, ' ' He talks over our heads ' ' ; and this points to more than 
the character of thought or vocabulary. The speaker may literally 
talk and look over our heads ; or, though his eyes are turned toward 
us, he is practically unconscious of our presence. Some advance 
from soliloquy to monologue and talk at us, or thunder at us. 

But true speech is a dialogue ; the speaker talks with us. It is 
conversation with an audience. The audience is conceived of by the 
speaker as responding, asking questions, approving and disapprov- 
ing. This conception brings into the speaker's voice a tone we shall 
call direct or communicative. And we should make sure that it 
springs from mental attitude; for it, no more than other tones, 
should be assumed as a trick of delivery. The attempt will result 

22 



I 



in an over-familiar, confidential, or wheedling tone which is most 
objectionable. 

It takes courage, and self-control to speak straight to an audi- 
.ence This not because of embarrassment merely, but because of 
the necessity of commanding and directing the thoughts of many. 
There are times when the speaker feels that it is his will against the 
combined wills of his hearers. The point was well put by a former 
student, who, from being a rather weak speaker in college, has de- 
veloped a direct and effective style while preaching to western cow- 
boys : " I tell you, when your congregation may jump out of a win- 
dow or dance in the aisle if you lose control, you have to grip 
them!" If the speaker weakens and retires within himself, he 
quickly loses control and a restless inattention ensues ..almost as 
distressing as these "wild and woolly" extremes. "It is four-fifths 
will power," says President Stryker, of Hamilton College. 

We should emphasize again, in this connection, the importance 
of the eye, which is even more important than the voice in main- 
taining contact. The speaker should. look at his hearers squarely; 
no dodging will do ; no looking just over their heads, or down the 
aisle, or at a friendly post. The speaker who meets the eyes of his 
hearers will rarely see their eyes turn away from him and he will 
rarely lose contact. But the temptation is often strong upon the 
young speaker to turn away ; not chiefly because of nervousness, but 
because of the necessity of thinking causes him to drop his eyes to 
the floor, or raise them to the ceiling. But the time for meditation 
has passed; his facts, arguments and conclusions should be clearly 
arranged in his mind. His thinking now should be of that objective 
sort that is best stimulated by contact with his audience. Of course 
a speaker who has no opportunity to prepare, may be pardoned if 
he fails to observe this rule, and those who speak from notes cannot ; 
but the loss of force is easily noted. 

While a speaker should avoid a constantly shifting gaze, he 
should neglect no part of his audience. The part directly in front 
should receive most attention. Many speakers develop a bad habit 
of addressing one side nearly all the time, with but glances at the 
other. The neglected side soon grows restless. President Stryker, 
one of the best speakers of today, has remarkable power in making 
each individual feel the message is for him, "I wonder," said a 

23 



freshman who sat under President Stryker's sermons, "why Prexy 
preaches all his sermons at me." "Why," replied his friend who 
sat on the other side of the chapel, l ' I thought Prex. aimed them all 
at me ! " It must not be inferred from the above that a speaker 
should stride forward with a fierce gaze and an " I-am-going-to- 
make-y ou-listen " air. It must be strength with ease and self-confi- 
dence with respect for others, ' ' a gentleman conversing. ' ' 

It should now be carefully noted that it does not follow because 
a speaker has succeeded in reproducing conversational mental con- 
ditions on the platform that his delivery therefore will be perfect, 
or even "good enough." The hardest part of the battle has been 
won; but it is obvious that if one's conversation has defects, his 
enlarged conversation may have these defects enlarged. Faulty 
pronounciation, indistinct enunciation, nasal or provincial twang, 
throaty tones, lack of range or of agility of voice, are but examples 
of faults that may be transferred to the platform. A rational study 
of technique may be beneficial after the first success is won. A 
rational study of technique requires that the student shall never 
look upon technical matters as of first importance, though they are 
often very important indeed. It is due in part to over-emphasis 
of technique that the elocutionist often falls under the condemnation 
of sensible folk. One reason for insisting that the class of faults 
mentioned in this paragraph should be attended to after rather than 
before conversational conditions are secured, is that we are prone 
to feel that the part of a subject which we take up first is the most 
fundamental. It would seem that many never get beyond the con- 
ception that public speaking is entirely a matter of voice and gesture 
manipulation. 

We were speaking in the last paragraph of faults of delivery 
in a narrow sense. There are of course many reasons why a speaker 
whose delivery is thoroughly conversational, may yet be a poor 
speaker. He may have a weak vocabulary ; careless habits of thought 
and composition ; he may lack information and ideas ; or understand- 
ing of audiences; he may be deficient in imagination, earnestness 
and strength ; he may have an unpleasant personality. 

It should be pointed out, however, that many of these faults 
tend to disappear when one is fully imbued with the true concep- 
tion of public speech. For example, one earnestly reaching out for 

24 



the understanding of one's audience, will make more effort to be 
distinct than in ordinary conversation ; and often effort is all that 
is needed. Nervousness may cause a speaker to use his voice badly ; 
but it is clear that he is less liable to this fault when he looks upon 
public speech as a larger conversation, calling for a normal use of 
his voice, than if he assumes strange tones. Again, if our young 
speaker talks too fast, — and no fault is more common with begin- 
ners, — a direct attempt on his part to slow down often results in 
increase rather than decrease of rate. Besides if a speaker holds 
himself to a full realization of the content of his words, he will pause 
much of necessity ; and if he is earnestly striving to talk with his 
audience, he will soon realize that an audience cannot be carried so 
rapidly as one listener. Deliberation will be the natural result. 

The fact that many who read these pages have already come 
more or less under the influence of the more mechanical methods of 
teaching public speaking, makes advisable some discussion of them ; 
otherwise I would gladly omit all reference. These systems, in brief, 
attempt to lay down rules which shall govern emphasis, pause, in- 
flection, and tone in every instance. The inventors of these systems 
profess to base them upon the general practice of good speakers. 
For example, a conditional clause should end with a rising inflec- 
tion. To illustrate, in speaking the sentence, "If I go down town., 
I will do your errand," the voice should rise at town. We may 
admit that this is true without admitting the value of the rule for 
our purpose. 

The voice reflects the mind with remarkable fidelity. ' ' Expres- 
sion," says Cicero, "is always perfect." Our voices respond 
promptly and instinctively to our changing thoughts, feelings and 
moods, and to the varying situations in which we find ourselves. As 
a rule we take no thought of emphasis, pause, inflection and tone; 
yet the expression comes true. When we do take thought, it is most 
often not to express ourselves better, but to conceal indifference, 
eagerness, dislike, fear, or other mood. Wrong emphasis is due to 
failure at the moment to discriminate values ; wrong pausing is due 
to failure to distinguish the units of thought ; the wrong tone is 
prompted by the wrong feeling. The remedy is complete thinking 
and sincere feeling. The voice ordinarily responds without con- 
scious direction because this is one of the earliest reactions fixed in 

25 



the nervous system. Why should not this response be as true in 
public as in private speech, provided we can maintain upon the 
platform conversational mental conditions? The point is vigor- 
ously put by Nathan Shepard in his ' ' Before an Audience ' ' : 

' ' Another of the rules of the elocutionist is : ' Pause before and 
after the emphatic word, and put a circumflex upon it. ' 

"Where did you get this rule? From conversation. Finding 
that we do this naturally, let us do it mechanically. We do it by 
instinct in private talking, let us do it by rule in public speaking. 
Finding that while eating, every time your elbow bends your mouth 
flies open, therefore this rule: When your elbow bends, open your 
mouth. ... If you deprive the speaker of his pauses and emphasis 
and inflections, what is left for his brains ? ' ' 

The last sentence above touches the greatest evil of the rule 
systems. If we fix the precise manner in which a sentence shall be 
delivered, and then, as is usually done, drill this delivery till there is 
no danger that the vocal organs will perform otherwise than in the 
manner prescribed, what indeed is there left for the speaker 's 
brains? Here is an easy substitute for thinking and it is usually 
relied upon ; and this is the more true because the student of 
mechanical training rarely conceives of speaking as other than a 
matter of making your voice and hands go right. He manipulates 
his voice as an organist manipulates his instrument, and when he 
changes his tones for this or that emotion, you almost see him push- 
ing and pulling the stops. But instrumental music is an artificial 
matter, while the response of voice and gesture to thought and feel- 
ing is a matter of the deepest instincts of our nature, and mechanical 
methods, which are a necessity to the musician, are a positive hin- 
drance to the speaker. Besides the rules are only half true ; they 
conventionalize speech ; being based upon the assumption that public 
speaking is an abnormal act, they prevent the true and simple con- 
ception from developing in the student's mind; and they are cum- 
bersome and needless. The agents of expression will respond to v 
right mental action ; let us therefore attend to the thinking. At first 
the unfamiliar conditions of the platform may interfere ; the remedy 
is not an arbitrary substitute for thought, but more thinking. 

Much practice may be needed. Mental habits may need re- 
forming. Long practice may be needed too, before the expression, 

26 



though correct, will be adequate. We often wish to express a wider 
range of thoughts and feelings on the platform than in conversation. 
This fact makes necessary a development of the power of expres- 
sion. To this end we need not practice on a "set" of tones, such as 
"low aspirate oratund" and "high, pure, aspirate, fast"; but 
may wisely practice expressing a large variety of ideas and senti- 
ments, using both our own productions and those of others which 
we have assimilated. In such practice we should always seek the 
right expression by means of a firm grasp of content and the effort 
to communicate directly to auditors, real or imaginary. As a re- 
sult, we shall find the response of voice to mind growing more 
prompt, certain and satisfying. And since, on the other hand, the 
effort to express develops that which we seek to express, we shall 
find in such practice the harmonious development of thought, feel- 
ing and voice which is the truest vocal training. To this may be 
added the physical training of breathing and other exercises for 
strengthening and purifying the voice. Any exercises for bettering 
the response of voice and muscle to the action of the mind may be 
welcomed; provided always that we never confuse ourselves with 
the notion that somehow these means are public speaking, that we 
do not think of such means at all when speaking, and never try to 
substitute them for thinking. Exercises should be employed strictly 
as exercises; and it is best that they should be kept back until the 
beginner has gained the power to maintain conversational conditions 
upon the platform through actual practice in addressing the class 
or other audience. 

Before leaving the subject of mechanical method, it will be 
well to speak in particular of one error that is peculiarly persistent. 
Some agree, as all must, that delivery is determined by thought ; 
but to them this means that first the thought is to be mastered, then 
the emphatic words, pause, inflections and tones decided upon and 
perhaps marked upon the manuscript, and then the voice is to be 
trained to follow this scheme. This method is vicious; for it re- 
lieves the mind from thinking the content of the words, puts atten- 
tion upon a mechanism, interferes with the sense of communcation, 
and in general has all the faults of mechanical method. 

The method is still worse when the marks are furnished by a 
teacher. The rule systems do call for study upon the part of the 

27 



student; but the method of imitation lacks this redeeming feature, 
and is of all methods the worst; for it relieves the student of all 
necessity for thought. It trains to absent-minded delivery. And 
it is not only the imitation of another's delivery of a given speech 
that is bad. We should not attempt to borrow the tone and manner 
of another at all. Fight against it as we may, there is nothing better 
for any one of us than his own individuality, developed and im- 
proved. David cannot fight in Saul's armor, nor is the ass a success 
in the lion's skin. It is the fate of the imitator to copy the man- 
nerism and miss the spirit. The result is caricature. What Scho- 
penhauer says of style in writing can be applied to delivery : ' ' Style 
is the physiognomy of the mind, and a safer index to character than 
the face. To imitate another man's style is like wearing a mask, 
which, be it never so fine, is not long in arousing disgust and abhor- 
rence, because it is lifeless; so that even the ugliest face is better." 
To this we may add the words of Wackernagel : ' ' Style is no lifeless 
mask laid upon the substance of thought; it is the living play of 
countenance, produced by the expressive soul within." These bril- 
liant statements of Buff on 's thought, "Style is the man himself," 
are more true of delivery than of composition ; because delivery is 
a more instinctive and intimate expression of personality than 
printed words. 

In condemning conscious imitation as a method of learning to 
speak in public, I do not overlook the fact that we learn to talk in 
the first place largely by unconscious imitation and that imitation 
is a large factor in education. It may be admitted that in treating 
some special minor faults, imitation may be valuable as a last resort, 
It is the easiest of all methods for the teacher, and may be justified 
sometimes when quick formal results are necessary. There are some 
who are slow in responding to other methods. But all this does not 
alter the fact that imitation is the poorest of methods and disap- 
pointing in the long run ; for it does not ordinarily set the student 
on a course of normal development, And for those mentally able 
to "run alone," it is well-nigh disgraceful. No man with proper 
self-respect will be content to follow, as his general method, imita- 
tion, even of the best. And, in the nature of things the imitator 
must usually imitate the mediocre. 

I recognize the fact that students have learned to speak well by 

28 



all sorts of methods and by no method. Sometimes teachers are far 
better than their methods, and sometimes students succeed in spite 
of methods. In any case the teacher is of secondary importance; 
the student must work out his own salvation. The teacher can only 
point out the goal, indicate the best road thither and give encourage- 
ment on the way. But as there are ways and ways, I have tried to 
show you the way which after thirteen years of experience as a 
teacher, I believe promises the least waste of effort and the surest 
arrival. 



29 



CHAPTEE II. ' 

ATTENTION FURTHER ANALYSIS OF MENTAL ACTION AS AFFECTING 

DELIVERY. 

In the first chapter I have emphasized the importance of a 
speaker's thinking the full content of his words as he utters them. 
It is now important that we consider more carefully the character of 
the thinking to be done ; for it is quite possible for one to think that 
he thinks very hard and to furrow his brow deeply, and yet accom- 
plish little. 

It is manifest that concentration of attention is called for. To 
attend to an idea means that one holds it in the focus of conscious- 
ness, and excludes for the time all the swarms of other ideas and 
sensations constantly bidding for attention. Without effort to con- 
trol, and often in spite of effort, the mind may turn here and there 
as one thing suggests another by the subtle process of association; 
so that things so incongruous as art and artichokes, clouds and 
anarchy may jostle each other in one 's mind. The following is from 
Curry's Lessons in Vocal Expression, p. 19: 

"These characteristics of the act of thinking will be seen by 
observing the difference between thinking and musing. In musing, 
the mind drifts from idea to idea, independent of the will. There 
is little concentration or direction of mind : it moves passively from 
idea to idea. In thinking, however, there is an accentuation of suc- 
cessive pulsations. The mind concentrates its attention upon one 
idea, placing this in the foreground, and placing others in the back- 
ground; then chooses another idea from the many possible associa- 
tions, and directs attention to that. The prolonging of the concen- 
tration of the mind upon an idea is called 'attention.' " 

An important part of attending to one idea is attending from 
all others; "for we cannot attend at the same moment to all the 
ideas that make up a consciousness; the 'grasp' of attention is lim- 
ited." (Titchener's Primer, p. 75.) We can think clearly and defi- 
nitely one thing at a time. We cannot attend to all the thought of 
even a short speech at once, or of the ordinary paragraph, or of any 

30 



but the shortest sentence. We may hold in mind a summary of a 
speech ; but the summary is only the thought generalized, without its 
definite, specific phases. If we are to have definite thinking, we must 
focus, or center, upon each successive point. 

Another important consideration is that attention is not con- 
stant. Scott, in his Psychology of Public Speaking, speaks of the 
* ' pulse of attention ' ' and of ' ' recurrent spurts ' ' of attention. Cole- 
ridge has compared the mind's action to that of a water insect mak- 
ing its way against the current, ' ' now resisting the current, and now 
yielding to it, in order to gather strength and a momentary fulcrum 
for a further propulsion." Professor James, (Briefer Course, p. 
160.) says of the "stream of consciousness," that "like a bird's life, 
it seems to be an alternation of flights and perchings. The rhythm 
of language expresses this. . . . The resting-places are usually 
occupied by sensorial images of some sort. . . . ; the places of 
flight are filled with thoughts of relations. . . ." Consideration 
of these facts, (1) that the mind can grasp clearly but one thing at 
a time, and (2) that attention is intermittent, leads us to the sub- 
jects of phrasing and centering. J 

A phrase, as we use the term, may be defined as a group of 
words containing such a part of the thought as the mind is to dwell 
upon, or the attention is to focus upon, momentarily; or, from an- 
other angle, such a part as the speaker wishes the minds of his audi- 
ence to rest upon. Or, again /a phrase is a group of words contain- 
ing a center of attention.' The term is not to be confused with the 
grammarian's use of the same word, although our phrase and the 
grammatical phrase may often be identical. 

The phrasing of a sentence is not a fixed and unchanging mat- 
ter. It may vary with different individuals, and with the same 
individual. It depends in great measure upon the difficulty, 
familiarity and importance of the content. To illustrate: "If 
ignorance and corruption and intrigue control the primaries, and 
manage the conventions, and dictate the nominations, the fault is in 
the honest and intelligent workshop and office, in the library and 
parlor, in the church and the school. " Taking this sentence without 
context, each detail may call for a modicum of attention and we 
shall have many phrases. Ignorance, corruption and intrigue are by 
no means synonyms; each is a distinct cause of political ills. We 

31 



may say that each of these three words ends a phrase. If the thought 
is very analytic, this would be right. If however we conceive that 
the main point of the sentence is elsewhere, we shall probpbly throw 
the three evils together as a thought unit and end the phrase with 
intrigue. This will be better, for if we give attention to too many 
details, we shall get no unified impression from the sentence. So too 
the successive stages of candidate-making may be considered sepa- 
rately, making three phrases ; or less analytically as but one whole, 
though this last is hardly probable. If the idea of fault is the big 
point of the sentence, then a phrase will end with fault; but if that 
is taken for granted and the chief point is thought to be whose fault, 
then probably office, parlor and church will end the remaining 
phrases. If the distinction between workshop and office is thought 
of distinctly they will fall in distinct phrases; but if they are 
thought of together as representative of business, there will be but 
one phrase. The more analytic treatment would be extreme and 
would lead to halting delivery. 

Taking the sentence in its context, the case is much simpler. We 
find that the whole sentence is a restatement, for purposes of transi- 
tion and increased definiteness, of what has been said or implied in 
the preceding paragraph. On closer analysis we find that, consid- 
ering the context both before and after this sentence, the especial 
purpose is to emphasize who is at fault. Since the thought is 
familiar, our thought units can be larger, and this is especially true 
of the less important parts. A mind keenly alive to the relation of 
this sentence to the whole, will be likely to take in all to intrigue at 
one ' ' spurt ' ' of attention ; to note in very rapid succession the three 
stages of the process of nomination ; the idea of fault will be already 
so clear that attention will pass over it and will fall into the phrase 
with "workshop and office." The phrases then will end with in- 
trigue, meeting, convention, nomination, office, parlor, and school. 
But a different interpretation would change this. It should be 
noted that the duration of attention upon the phrases will vary with 
their importance, and this means their importance at the moment. 

While phrasing is often a variable, this is not always true. 
There are some expressions that will not bear breaking. For ex- 
ample, The United States of America could under only the most un- 
usual conditions be conceived as two thought units. It is as much 

32 



a unit, a single name, as France. It would be as proper to separate 
in thought and delivery the two syllables of the name Fuller, or 
the two parts of John Smith. The Constitution of the United States 
of America is likewise a single name. On the other hand, there are 1 
many expressions that demand phrasing. In the sentence, taken 
from the selection printed at the end of this chapter, ' ' Public duty 
in this country is not discharged, as is so often supposed, by voting, ' '' 
the clause "as is so often supposed, ' ' being distinct and parentheti- 
cal, must be a distinct phrase. 

Insufficient phrasing is the mark of a mind which skims over 
the surface, seeing little. But we should note the possibility of 
over-phrasing, and centering attention upon a portion of the thought 
so small or insignificant that it does not need or will not bear direct 
attention. Over-phrasing nags the attention of the audience, de- 
stroys unity and clogs movement. Take as an example: "About 
one-third — of our country — was originally covered — with the most 
magnificent forests." One cannot really think "about one-third" 
alone. "About one- third of our country" is the true unit. The 
rest is a single picture and can be readily grasped at one time. 
1 ' And Paul stretched forth his hand, and began to defend himself. ' y 
If attention is directed to the first part alone, it seems a needless 
detail; thrown into the same phrase with the second part, it forms 
a striking detail of the picture. The whole can be taken at a mental 
glance. There are some things that almost "go without saying;" 
they certainly go with saying, and these should not be made a center 
of attention. The context from which these words, "Public duty in 
this country is not discharged by voting," are taken, shows that 
this country is not contrasted with any other; so that "in this 
country" needs no attention. The phrase is "Public duty in this 
country. ' ' 

There is also a sort of false phrasing which has the same bad 
effects as over-phrasing. It occurs at such words as out, and, that, 
which, are, and other connective and introductory words, which 
should ordinarily blend with what follows. There are times when 
attention should center upon the relations which these words repre- 
sent, but such times are rare. This false phrasing is sometimes due 
to conventional reading habits and an erroneous belief that we 
should ' ' mind our pauses, ' ' meaning the punctuation. But punctu- 

33 



atlon has nothing to do with delivery. It may or may not coincide 
with the ends of phrases ; as in, ' ' Oh, yes, I am young, I know ; but 
youth, Sir, is not my only crime." False phrasing most often 
arises from wandering attention or inability to think what comes 
next. Instead of pausing till he has a grip on his next clause, the 
speaker begins, "But — " and then, like the parson in "The One- 
Hoss Shay," "stops perplexed at what the — Moses — is coming 
next!" 

That phrasing is variable should not lead us to suppose that it 
may b>e left to chance, to be fixed by habit, breathing necessities, or 
rhythm. It is a matter of how we think. Confused phrasing means 
confused thinking. Moreover, confused phrasing means confused 
"understanding on the part of the hearer ; for the thought units are 
revealed by the voice to the hearer by means of pause, pitch, rate, 
or tone color. The youth who declaimed: "My name is Norval on 
the Grampian Hills, — my father feeds his flock a frugal swain," 
did not mean to imply that his name was different in the Lowlands, 
and had only his slovenly thinking to blame when some of his puz- 
zled mates thought he said his father fed a flock of frugal swine. 
The banquet orator who proposed the toast, "Woman without her 
man — would be a savage ! ' ' did not make a hit with the ladies in the 
"balcony ; and there was a just grievance when a preacher in a fishing 
town changed the written request sent up by a good wife, "A man 
going to sea, his wife requests the prayers of the church," into "A 
man going to see his wife — requests the prayers of the church." 
The importance of thinking in the true units may be seen in at- 
tempting to unravel this: "That that is is that that is not is not." 

One may not often fall into as amusing results as some of those 
mentioned above, but phrasing as absurd in fact is common enough. 
And strangely enough, bad phrasing is nearly as common in de- 
livering the speaker's own matter as when interpreting. Whenever 
the attention slips from content and relations are forgotten, the 
voice may run units together, or halt and break up units, and so 
throw upon the hearer the burden of analysis or perplex him ut- 
terly. But when the mind alertly notes each point, the voice will 
guide the reader's attention aright, and listening will be easy. 

It may be well to note in passing, that phrases are not always 
followed by pauses, and also that pause for emphasis may fall in the 

34 



midst of a phrase. For example, in the first sentence of the second 
paragraph of the selection at the end of this chapter, the three 
phrases, "control the primaries and manage the conventions and 
dictate the nominations," might well be given without pause. On 
the other hand, in ' ' Woman ! without her, man would be a savage, ' ' 
a speaker might pause before "a savage," although it is not a 
phrase. In the second sentence of the selection before referred to, 
there might be a pause after "essentially" if the speaker's mind 
were strongly caught by that thought ; yet undoubtedly the words 
"of his political duty" belong in the phrase with the preceding 
words, for as merely echoing "public duty" they hold no meaning 
upon which the mind should rest. It should be noted also from the 
last example, that phrases do not necessarily end with important 
words. 

Along with phrasing, we should note centering J which should be 
clear from the above discussion. The mind centreslipon each phrase 
momentarily. ? /And within most phrases some one or more words 
will especially embody the idea, and upon these the attention 
focuses; or, in the picturesque language of Professor James, on 
these the mind "perches" after its flight. The result is emphasis, 
which may show itself in force of voice, increased inflection, slow- 
ness of utterance, or pause before or after the word. But here it is 
in order to utter a needed warning. The beginner should seek 
emphasis through alert mental action, not through mechanically 
applied stress. We shall say little of emphasis, for the term is too 
strongly associated with mechanical methods. The admonition, 
Centre, which will be frequently given, should be understood as 
meaning,/Hold your attention upon the thought of the phrase you 
are delivering. 

£The thought centres, like the phrases, of a given sentence may 
vary with context and purpose. This is almost too apparent to 
point out ; yet it may prove profitable to note how the centre shifts 
in the first part of Emerson 's sentence, " If I should make the short- 
est list of the qualifications of an orator, I should begin with manli- 
ness, " according to whether we assume that the preceding discus- 
sion has been about orators, or statesmen, or about the qualifications 
of orators, or lists of qualifications. We should find not only a 
meaning, but the meaning of our sentence. 

35 



1/ 



One of the commonest faults of young speakers is failure suffi- 
ciently to individualize and centre upon the successive steps. This 
is one of the chief causes of too great rapidity. The beginner does 
not think enough along the way. He may have understood clearly 
in preparation ; he may have a bare understanding as he speaks ; but 
he does not grasp the thought in its fulness. His mind should re- 
ceive a distinct impression from each phrase. This calls for the 
deliberation which is characteristic of experienced speakers. Al- 
though they may move rapidly, it is without haste. It will help the 
speaker to dwell upon his ideas, if he fixes firmly in mind the truth 
that his audience can move only at a much slower rate than he can. 
They are not so familiar with his line of thought and their attention 
is not so firm. If they are to see the pictures suggested, compare 
his statements with their experience ; in a word, think back to him, 
they must have time. 

The mind of a young speaker often fails to carry on all of its 
complex task; for it must note the successive thought units, hold 
them in relation, recall or select the words, and at the same time re- 
member the audience. It would seem well-nigh impossible to do all 
this, did we not remember that the task is much the same in any 
important conversation. The grand secret is pause. 

Pause gives the speaker opportunity to breathe^ but he should 
never stop for breath. That is to fix phrasing by physical, not by 
mental needs. The speaker should cultivate the habit of utilizing 
every pause to take breath, in order that his tone may be well sup- 
ported. The opportunities are always sufficient. But so far as con- 
sciousness is concerned, pause should be only an opportunity to 
think. 

Pause should be distinguished from hesitation. "We pause to 
think; we hesitate because we cannot think. Nothing is more tire- 
some to an audience than hesitating, halting delivery, especially if 
the pauses are filled with ers and uhs. The remedy lies in using the 
pause to grasp firmly the next clause. While speaking a phrase, 
attention should be centered upon that ; although its relations are in 
the ' ' fringe of consciousness. ' ' If one looks forward too much while 
speaking a phrase, there is danger that one's voice will become life- 
less. There is hardly a beginner who does not need this advice: 
Train yourself strictly to the habit of pausing until both the thought 

36 



in its relations and the words of the next portion are gripped by 
your mind. 

Do not fear that your pauses will be too long. The audience 
needs the pause to think what has been said; the speaker needs the 
pause to think what is to be said. "Speech is silvern; silence is 
golden," says the proverb; and silence is never more golden than in 
the midst of speech. Do not confuse over-rapid delivery with de- 
livery which has movement. The sense of movement may arise 
more from the steady, masterful progress of speech that is deliberate 
than from hurried speech. Nor should deliberation be confused with 
drawling. Drawling arises from a listless, or a too introspective 
state of mind, and would never be the expression of an alert mind. 

We have spoken of the necessity of distinguishing the relation 
of each step to the others. Some are main points, some are subordi- 
nate; some are related as cause and effect;. some are repetition or 
echo, some new thoughts; some are concessive, some aggressive, and 
so on through all possible relations of points to each other and to 
the central theme. Upon the realization of these relations depends, 
with much else, proper inflection. 

Failure to discriminate main thoughts from subordinate 
thoughts, or relative values in any respect, is one great cause of 
monotony. It may be that the speaker in his preparation has failed 
to discriminate with care ; or it may be that on his feet his mind is 
not alert. 

The next important relationship to which we call special atten- 
tion is that of echo and new idea. The word "new" here has 
no reference to novelty or originality r but refers to an idea that has 
not appeared before in the particular discussion. The word 
"idea" here should not be taken too largely. Each phrase con- 
tains an idea as we are now using the term. Indeed, a phrase may 
contain more than one idea, though only one on which attention 
centres, as for example the first phrase of the selection from Curtis. 
Echo refers to a part of a ^sentence which repeats or harks back to a 
thought already expressed. The echo may or may not be in the same 
words as the part referred to. It most frequently refers to the im- 
mediately preceding, but may refer to any preceding part. If you 
will turn to the selection you will note that "vote" in the second 
sentence echoes "voting" in the first, and "political duty" echoes 

37 



"public duty." It is less obvious that "very heart" echoes "essen- 
tially" in the same sentence. Every sentence in this selection, after 
the first, contains one or more echoes. They are especially numer- 
ous in the last part of the last sentence. Almost any sentence in a 
speech may be considered a link in a chain, reaching both forward 
and backward. It is this interlinking which gives firmness of struc- 
ture, and where it is absent the style is abrupt and liable to be dis- 
jointed. Where the echoes are not clearly distinguished, the delivery 
will also be disjointed and lacking in unity. They have been called 
the ' ' connective tissue ' ' of language. 

Determining this relationship of echo and new idea, is really 
a part of determining relative values. In the majority of cases, it is 
the new idea which for the moment is of chief importance ; it is 
the one now to be impressed upon the hearers. The echo, on the 
other hand, is already in mind and is given chiefly to keep relations 
clear ; although it may be, in a given case, the most important part 
of the sentence, as in case of repetition for emphasis. 

The term echo is hardly adequate, though the one ordinarily 
used. Many a phrase which contains a back reference, is really an 
amplification, or a restatement with so much added meaning and 
force that the feeling of reference is not prominent, although 
present. To echoes should be added restatements and amplifications. 

Summarizing will be found very helpful ; first, because to make 
a good summary one must have the clearest understanding; and, 
secondly, because if you put into your summary just the right turn 
of the thought, the real point of view and the true emphasis, and 
fix this in your mind before you rise to speak, it will aid you 
greatly in giving to each part its due importance and in relating 
each to the whole. A summary is like a bird's-eye view : by omitting 
details it makes clearer the relations of parts. . Analysis is necessary 
in order to distinguish relations, but after analysis must come syn- 
thesis. The practice of summarizing will enable you to gain a 
quality not at all common, unity of delivery. 

The methods here sketched out have for their object simply the 
accentuation of the "thinking on one's feet" which was discussed 
in the chapter on the nature of public speaking. As Curry says in 
his Lessons, p. 20, "Expression does not call for a change in the ac- 
tions of the mind, but simply for accentuation. . . . The mind 

38 



must conceive the ideas more vividly, and this vivid image is secured 
by giving preparatory attention to each thought. " It is an excellent 
practice for a young speaker, when once the details have been 
worked out, to go over the thought movement, or thought chain, time- 
after time, until he has worn such a groove in his mind that he can 
without reference to notes, and without mind wandering, proceed 
through his entire speech step by step, individualizing each point 
and seeing each in its proper relations. A practical aid is mentally 
to throw into the transitions, such phases as, to be sure, granted, for 
example, to take up another point, so true is this, don't you see. 
These accentuate the relations, and hence prompt more definite ex- 
pression. They also aid the memory, for trouble in remembering- 
usually is due to weak transition. 

These methods can be most advantageously applied by the be- 
ginner to a written speech, or to a selection; but they are, for the 
most part, quite as applicable to an extemporaneous speech, which 
in modern terminology is a speech prepared, but not fixed in phrase- 
ology. Impromptu speaking may be valuable, indulged in occasion- 
ally, in helping to secure contact with the audience, as it is closest to 
actual conversation; but much of it develops careless, rambling- 
speech, the "gift of gab"; and it does not permit of the develop- 
ment which comes from such thorough-going training of the mental 
action as is outlined above. 

No one should make the mistake of supposing that what is urged 
is the too common practice of marking off pause, emphasis and in- 
flection, either by rule or arbitrarily, and then training the voice to 
follow the scheme of marks. Whatever value there may be in the 
mechanical, or objective, method for advanced students and for pro- 
fessional students of reading, it is not for beginners in public speak- 
ing. The evils of the mechanical method are far greater than its 
benefits. It seems to offer an easy way; but the method is one of 
amazing intricacy, and its exponents differ widely among themselves. 
Fortunately for us there is a simpler and better way. Its secret is 
thinking. To make expression clearer and stronger,. accentuate men- 
tal processes which are the natural, spontaneous cause of expression. 
Nothing more mechanical is called for than definite thinking and 
feeling. Given clear analysis, just discrimination of ideas,' of their 
relations and of the varying moods, and confusion, drifting and 

39 



monotony of utterance will disappear and the voice will respond 
with the lively, varied expressiveness of genuine intercourse. 

We should, however, bear in mind the limitations of this doc- 
trine which were suggested in the former article, and recognize that 
the mechanical, or objective, method has certain uses. We should 
remember also that much help may be gained by rational voice and 
gesture training, which will give the organs of expression greater 
ability to respond. But such training is in itself as much mental 
■as physical. 

Perhaps the precise difference between the two methods may 
~be made clear in this way, taking the matter of emphasis as typical : 
One working by the mechanical method decides that a given word 
is emphatic, say, tonight, in the sentence, ' ' Are you going down town 
tonight ? ' ' He then consciously stresses that word. It is an act not 
very unlike that of the pianist in pressing a pedal ; the more prac- 
ticed he is, of course, the less attention the act requires. One work- 
ing by our method, holds in mind the meaning he wishes to convey, 
and trusts the conception to prompt the right emphasis, as in con- 
versation. If he finds difficulty in securing the right expression, he 
■accentuates his thinking, perhaps saying to himself, ' ' The question is 
^between tonight and tomorrow night." He may even decide quite 
definitely which word is chiefly significant ; but still seeks right ex- 
pression from concentrated attention rather than by consciously 
applied stress. And if on rare occasions he finds the mechanical 
method helpful, he looks upon it rather as a last resort than as sound 
practice. The mechanical method inserts a process, unknown to 
normal expression, between the mental action and the voice; yet its 
exponents agree that its only purpose is to secure normal expression. 
/Proper pausing and phrasing will spring from recognition of 
the successive thought units; and the length of pause and rate of 
utterance will be regulated by the relative values which the mind 
assigns to each step. From centering will spring emphasis, which 
will be due emphasis, if the relation of part to part is clearly in 
mind. Recognition of logical relations will prompt true inflections. 
To illustrate, where the mind rests with a degree of finality, the 
voice tends to fall ; where the mind looks forward, as at the end of 
dependent clauses, (e.g. at finality, forward and clauses in this sen- 
tence,) the voice tends to sustain itself. Change of pitch arises from 

40 



discrimination of ideas and values; climax from a sense of the de- 
velopment of the thought and feeling ; and change of tone-color from 
change of attitude ; as, from the explanatory to the argumentative 
mood, or from indignation to conciliation. Where these elements of 
expression exist, monotony is impossible. It should be understood 
that this analysis is but a rough one ; the various elements may com- 
bine in countless ways. Expression is too complex a matter for 

7 
j 



brief analysis, if, indeed, complete analysis be possible. 



WHO IS TO BLAME? 

Selection from "The Public Duty of Educated Men," by George 

William Curtis. 1 

1 I. 1. Public duty in this country is not discharged, as is 

2 often supposed, by voting. 2. A man may vote regularly, and 

3 still fail essentially of his political duty, as the Pharisee who gave 

4 tithes of all that he possessed, and fasted three times in the week, 

5 yet lacked the very heart of religion. 3. When an American 

6 citizen is content with voting merely, he consents to accept what 

7 is often a doubtful alternative. 4. His first duty is to help shape 

8 the alternative. 5. This, which was formerly less necessary, is 

9 now indispensable. 6. In a rural community such as this country 

10 was a hundred years ago, whoever was nominated for office was 

11 known to his neighbors, and the consciousness of that knowledge 

12 was a conservative influence in determining nominations. 7. But 

13 in the local elections of the great cities of today, elections that 

14 control taxation and expenditure, the mass of the voters vote in 

15 absolute ignorance of the candidates. 8. The citizen who sup- 

16 poses that he does all his duty when he votes, places a premium 

17 upon political knavery. 9. Thieves welcome him to the polls and 

18 offer him a choice, which he has done nothing to prevent, between 

19 Jeremy Diddler and Dick Turpin. 10. The party cries, for 

20 which he is responsible, are, ' ' Turpin and Honesty ! ' ' Diddler 



1 Orations and Addresses, Vol. I. p. 267. Harpers. 

41 



21 and Reform!" 11. And within a few years, as a result of this 

22 indifference to the details of public duty, the most powerful 

23 politician in the Empire State of the Union was Jonathan Wild 

24 the Great, the captain of a band of plunderers. 12. I know it 

25 is said that the knaves have taken the honest men in a net, and 

26 have contrived machinery which will inevitably grind only the 

27 grist of rascals. 13. The answer is, that when honest men did 

28 once what they ought to do always, the thieves were netted and 

29 their machine was broken. 14. To say that in this country the 

30 rogues must rule, is to defy history and to despair of the re- 

31 public. 

32 II. 15. If ignorance and corruption and intrigue control 

33 the primary meeting, and manage the convention, and dictate the 

34 nomination, the fault is in the honest and intelligent workshop 

35 and office, in the library and the parlor, in the church and the 

36 school. 16. When they are as constant and faithful to their po- 

37 litical rights as the slums and the grogshops, the pool-rooms and 

38 the kennels; when the educated, industrious, temperate, thrifty 

39 citizens are as zealous and prompt and unfailing in political ac- 

40 tivity as the ignorant and venal and mischievous, or when it is 

41 plain that they cannot be roused to their duty, then, but not 

42 until then — if ignorance and corruption always carry the day — 

43 there can be no honest question that the republic has failed. 17. 

44 But let us not be deceived. 18. While good men sit at home, not 

45 knowing that there is anything to be done, nor caring to know; 

46 cultivating a feeling that politics are tiresome and dirty, and 

47 politicians, vulgar bullies and bravoes ; half persuaded that a re- 

48 public is the contemptible rule of a mob, and secretly longing for 

49 a splendid and vigorous despotism, — then remember it is not a 

50 government mastered by ignorance, it is a government betrayed 

51 by intelligence ; it is not the victory of the slums, it is the surren- 

52 der of the schools ; it is not that bad men are brave, but that good 

53 men are infidels and cowards. 



42 



CHAPTER III. 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF ATTENTION. 

We have found in Chapter I. that a great part of our problem, 
is solved by "thinking at the instant of delivery;" but no attempt 
was there made to get at the full meaning of that phrase. The task 
now before us is to discover, if possible, how attention can be 
strengthened so that it shall be as easy as possible for the mind to 
hold true under the stress of public speaking. 

That the speaker's thought should be clear goes with the say- 
ing ;/for attention can never be clear upon confused ideas. But let 
us fix firmly in mind at the outset, that a speaker needs also vivid 
thinking, such as commands active interest and awakens him to 
energetic delivery. 1 "The one_j>rime requisite," says Professor 
Titchener, 2 "is self-forgetfulness^ absorption in the subject for its 
own sake, — such a self-forgetfulness as shall leave one as uncon- 
cerned before an audience as in one's study, and such absorption 

as shall make one eloquent against all the rules of oratory 

I know of no golden rule, still less of any royal road. Inaccuracy, 
carelessness, half-devotion, — these are the bane of our students; 
once a man is earnest enough to forget himself, to be ready to laugh 
at himself with the audience without losing his head, to forget how 
he looks and feels, he is successful and persuasive with or without 
technical knowledge and practice ; though of course these things are 
assets, if he has them." And Prof essor Squires says, "Put first the 
speaker's need of conviction;" and again, "He must speak with 
abandon." . What the speaker needs then is "such preparation that 
his ideas shall command his attention. 

What makes an idea strong in the battle for attention ? At any 
moment there are innumerable ideas and sensations struggling to 
get into the focus of your attention. The strongest (that is, the 
strongest at the moment) wins. Suppose you are glancing over a 

1 Having arrived at this distinction as a result of experience in teaching - , I 
am gratified to learn that it has been made by an authority. See DeGarmo's 
Interest and Education, p. 144. 

2 Extract from a personal letter. 

43 



newspaper with no special topic in mind. The usual list of fires 
does not interest you, till "Big Fire in Jonesville" catches your 
eye. Why? Because you once had an interesting experience in 
Jonesville. It is like a thousand other villages, but not to you. You 
pass the usual list of accidents, murders, until you notice. "Man 
Killed in Valley Forge. ' ' You have no interest in the event ; but 
the name has historical associations for you and you read the item. 
The aviation news holds you for a moment because of its novelty, 
and also because daring feats appeal to you and you think of your- 
self sweeping through the air in a biplane. Next, an item about 
Stratford-on-Avon holds the focus, not because you are literary, but 
because you recently heard a lecture on Shakespeare's boyhood. 
Here is the President's message. Looks dull, but one really 
ought to know something of it. So you resolutely begin to read. A 
disagreeable noise in the adjoining room compels your attention 
and the message is forgotten. Nor can you fix attention on your 
paper while the noise continues, until you are caught by the article 
which holds the most profound attention of all.. It deals with your 
special business, interest, or hobby. Maybe it is football, if you are 
an athlete ; market reports, if a broker ; new T ly discovered manu- 
scripts, if an historian, — the thing you know most about. You will 
notice that in each instance your attention has been the response of 
your mind as prompted by knowledge, experience, or tendency. 

Attention is said to be voluntary or involuntarry ; or, in other 
terminology, active or passive. To these forms, Professor Titch- 
ener adds secondary passive attention. "There are some things 
that we must attend to, whether we will or no. . . . Such are 
loud sounds or brilliant lights. . . . Sometimes, on the other 
hand, we seem to be holding our mind upon an object by main force, 
to be making ourselves attend. . . . This active attention al- 
ways involves effort The list of things we must 

attend to is not very long. And things not in the list cannot, of 
course, attract the attention so forcibly ... as the others can. 
Hence attention to them is active attention: attention under diffi- 
culties, attention with several claimants upon consciousness. The 
strongest idea wins." "Active attention, however, may pass over 
into passive. The man of science who is comparing shells or plants 
may become so absorbed in his work that he forgets his dinner or 
misses an appointment : his mind is held as firmly by his work as it 

44 



could be by a loud sound or a movement. In such a case, an object 
which has no right of its own to engross consciousness has gained 
this right in course of time and practice." x 

Now, while the powder to hold one's attention true is one of the 
characteristics of the developed mind, while ' ' active attention is the 
battle which must be won by those who mean to master their sur- 
roundings and rise to man's full height above the animal world," 
and certainly is highly important to the public speaker; neverthe- 
less, it is easily seen that the less the effort involved in attending to 
a given idea the better; for the power of attention w T ill be less 
quickly exhausted. ' ' Active attention appears as a stage of waste. ' '' 
For the public speaker, who has so much to distract him, the sec- 
ondary passive form of attention is a subject of first-class im- 
portance. 

This form can be developed by training. For example, a friend 
tells me he can hardly help attending to anything of a psychological 
nature. But this secondary passive attention is not commanded by 
one's life studies only. This same friend was recently building a 
house and a question arose regarding the gutters. While this was on 
his mind, his attention was drawn by the gutters of every house he 
passed. Our present object is to find out how to develop our ideas 
so that they shall command the secondary passive attention ; for 
this insures "thinking on our feet," and speaking with self-forget- 
f ulness and abandon. 

One way to put the matter is that we attend easily to what inteVests 
us. "What-we-attend-to and what-interests-us are synonymous terms," 
says James, 1 but we seem to have restated rather than to have solved the 
problem. What interests us depends, of course, upon what we are. To a 
certain boy business may seem a fascinating topic; arithmetic a very dull 
one. But when he discovers that arithmetic is necessary to business, it 
becomes interesting. That is, because of derived interest, attention may 
become easy. Again, interest may arise from the association of a dull sub- 
ject with one already interesting. A skillful teacher, whenever possible, 
binds the uninteresting to the interesting. A boy studying his Bible lesson 
perfunctorily came quickly to attention when he found that it had to do 
with the same Artaxerxes who had already aroused his interest in Grecian 
history. "Where thoughts prevail without effort, ... we know that 
interest and association are the words ... on which our explanations 



1 Titchener's Primer of Psychology,, pp. 76-80. 
1 Psychology, Briefer Course, p. 448. 

45 



must perforce rest." 1 These considerations are of special importance in 
dealing with the audience. 

Most important for our present purpose, — the attention of the 
speaker himself, — is the fact that we attend most easily and steadily 
to those ideas which are most habitual with us, and to those state- 
ments which have for us the richest intellectual and emotional con- 
tent, The more things we know about a topic, the more phases we 
have observed, the more instances and illustrations we have found, 
the more relations we have traced out, the more interests we have 
found the topic touches, the stronger is its grip upon our attention. 
"One's permanent interests," says Thorndike, 2 "one's tendencies to 
attend, are largely dependent on what one has, on one's permanent 
store of knowledge. Ordinarily if one fills his mind with a subject 
he will become interested and attend to it. ' ' 

We have all heard of those who have eyes and see not, ears and hear 
not. "He who would see the beauties of the Indies, must take the beauties 
of the Indies with him." The power to see, that is, the power to attend, 
depends as much upon the content and tendencies of the mind as upon 
the objects observed. Three men listen to an orchestra: One hears a com- 
bination of sounds more or less pleasing; the second hears a wonderful 
story; while the third perceives the orchestration and how the master 
produces his effects. Three men walking together discover a new flower: 
One says, "Very pretty," and turns away; the second is a lover of flowers 
and he dwells upon this new beauty, noting each of its colors, its petals, 
and comparing it with his favorites; while the third man, a botanist, see- 
ing with quite different eyes, proceeds to give the new flower a classifica- 
tion, fitting it into the proper niche in his system of knowledge. The first 
man knows little of flowers and is almost incapable of attending; the 
flower makes no impression and is straightway forgotten. The others 
attend without effort; they assimilate the new flower to their existing 
knowledge, and neither will forget. 

Before we become interested in a subject we may be unaware that 
there are things to be observed all about us and frequent references in 
periodicals pertaining to the subject. After we gain some knowledge of the 
subject we see material on every hand. After a student becomes interested 
in public speaking, for example, he observes something of interest in each 
speaker; every topic begins to frame itself into a speech, and constantly 
he sees references to speech-making. The words public speaking stand 
out from the page, and he even sees them where as a matter of fact the 
words really are public opinion, or public policy. Attention is alert to the 
topic. 



James, Briefer Course, p. 450. 
Human Nature Club, p. 73. 



46 






Decline of interest results from mere repetition, but interest grows 
where there is development of the familiar idea. "What I know all about," 
says one, "ceases to interest me." But what do we know all about? It is 
characteristic of the trained mind to find ever new phases of the familiar. 
There are some matters which we are satisfied are worth no further atten- 
tion; but w r hen we are dealing with subjects inherently interesting and 
practically limitless in extension, interest once enlisted does not lapse, 
except from weariness. Perhaps the most interesting objects of attention 
are significant new facts and ideas relating to familiar concepts. 

It is true there is an interest in novelty; but does not this lie chiefly 
in the challenge of the new thing to identify, or compare it with previously 
acquired knowledge and experience? If we are unable to find points of 
contact, and the novelty does not threaten pain or promise pleasure, we 
quickly lose interest. "The absolutely new is the absolutely uninterest- 
ing," says James. At least we may say with Angell, 1 it is unintelligible. It 
is well-nigh impossible to present anything absolutely new to the educated 
adult; he at once begins to discover likenesses and points of contact. 
However, we have all observed the blankness with which an ignorant person 
turns from a new idea in which he finds no significance for him. The 
fact that the Hebrews read from right to left is not interesting to a man 
who reads not at all. In any case, the interest in novelty, as such, is but 
trifling and transitory in comparison with one's interest in his specialties. 

Suppose, if you have the imagination, that a man w r ere to^come among 
us who has no knowledge of human relations, and yet is able to communi- 
cate with us. What a large number of our common notions would be 
meaningless to him! How could he, for instance, give his attention to 
arbitration? He knows nothing of war, or even of the rights of indi- 
viduals; he knows nothing of peace-making. Where shall we begin our 
explanation? Perhaps he has observed strife among animals. Perhaps 
we can give him an inkling by arranging a fight for the possession of food, 
with an arbiter coming in to divide the food among the combatants. Then 
he may have some little means of assimilating our explanations. We 
may be able to show him real war. Little by little he may come to un- 
derstand the history of human warfare and to appreciate arbitration. 

We really need not take such a flight of the imagination. If 
this word arbitration has any hold upon the mind of any one, it is 
because he has back of it knowledge of the effects of wars upon hu- 
man history and a sense of the significance of the problem, — some- 
thing very different from a dictionary definition of the word. To 
the average youth who has lived the average protected life, the idea 
of justice has little significance. He will tell you he knows what it 
means, that he believes in justice for all, he will readily subscribe to 
any maxim about justice; yet the idea has little meaning for him 

1 Psychology, p. 2 IS. 

47 



and his voice lacks the ring of conviction. But suppose he has suf- 
fered injustice, or is of a people that has suffered injustice ; then the 
idea will possess him and he will speak with an accent that leaves no 
doubt of sincerity. I have in mind students from Porto Rico and 
the Philippines, who believed their countries wronged by the United 
States. But suppose, again, the youth has been stirred by the 
wrongs of others and has fought for justice to an individual or a 
class : then also the idea may command him. Or, again, let us sup- 
pose he has read history until the long struggle for human rights 
has become real to him : then, again, though the interest may not 
be so keen and enduring, still it may be commanding. 

An idea need not be highly emotional, in the common use of the 
term, to make a strong appeal to the attention. The specialist may 
lose himself in the contemplation of insects, minerals, or formulae. 
"We do not think of his mental state as emotional, though of course 
there is emotion wherever there is interest. A lawyer finds keen 
interest in a discussion of legal principles that the layman thinks 
intolerably dull. The subject has gained significance for the 
specialist's mind because by experience, observation and study he 
has acquired a mass of information, organized under a system of 
principles. 

The importance of concrete facts has already been suggested 
in this discussion. It is difficult for the average person to hold his 
mind upon an abstraction. It is exceedingly difficult unless the 
abstraction has been worked out by the individual from concrete 
facts. The lawyer easily attends to the subtleties of code and rule, 
because he has a knowledge of the law founded upon innumerable 
cases in which John Doe and Richard Roe have struggled over their 
personal and property rights. A legal textbook would be impos- 
sible reading even to the law student, were it not for the constant 
reference to cases, by means of which he puts content into the rules. 

Says Professor DeGarmo : x " Concreteness contributes perhaps 
more than any other single phase of instruction both to clearness 
and to vividness. It lays the foundation, therefore, for interest. It 
is an old saying that 'the road to hell is paved with abstractions/ 
However this may be in theology, it is certain that in education a 
path so paved rarely leads to the goal of vivid ideas 



Interest and Education ^ p. 141. 

48 



Lotze tells us that all the strivings of the mental life not only begin 
with the concrete perceptions of the senses, but that they return to 
them to obtain material and starting points for new development of 
the mind's activity. If this be true, the road paved with abstrac- 
tions is the road away from interest, away from vivid and life- 
giving thought." 

In all the foregoing discussion we have had in view chiefly in- 
terest and attention; but it is quite as important for us that the 
buttressing of ideas upon well-considered data is also a means to 
clearness of understanding. And it is in this connection especially 
that concreteness is important. General and abstract terms are 
notably treacherous and often cover confusion and ignorance. The 
ignorant but pretentious man may talk loudly of justice, liberty, 
social welfare, wonders of science, philosophy, without any real 
meaning behind his words. He will explain wireless telegraphy 
with a comprehensive sweep of the hand and one word: Electricity. 
Gardiner, in his Forms of Prose Discourse, says we may expect ab- 
stractions from two classes of men : ' ' first, the great thinkers whose 
intellectual powers work as it were, by leaps and flights; in the 
other extreme, from people who are too lazy to think their subject 
out in specific detail. . . . It is only the man who can think 
clearly who is not afraid to think hard, and to test his thought by 
the actual facts of experience." It must be admitted that college 
students are prone to indulge in "glittering generalities." 

The value of abstract thinking is not questioned; generalization 
is necessary to progressive thinking. But I urge, nevertheless, that 
the student should test his -abstractions and generalities, not merely 
accept them from books and teachers. JHe should himself draw out 
his abstractions from the facts of experience, or at least compare 
them with the world of fact. In this way he should form new con- 
cepts and in this way he should put content into concepts he has 
accepted from others, many of which have little real significance for 
him. Just as the child in first learning that two and two are four, 
has this impressed upon him by two apples and two apples, so other 
abstractions become tangible through appropriate concrete images. 1 
We may, it is true, acquire new concepts by abstract processes alone, 
but we are always liable to error unless we apply the test of concrete 

1 1 am not unaware that controversies are waged over "imageless" thinking'. 
I am presuming to speak only with reference to the public speaker, for whom 
clearness of thought is not enough. 

49 



facts. We can learn the meaning of new words by mere definition, but 
those dictionaries are justly criticised which "divest the words of all the 
concrete accompaniments that would really make them intelligible to the 
learner." x We can rarely be sure of a word until we refer it to concrete 
situations. By the same process we arrive at a clearer notion of familiar 
words, or of familiar words in new combinations. The word social has 
meaning for us, and so has consciousness. One day we find them together 
meaning a new thing which is not merely the sum of their several mean- 
ings. Stop and think! What does social consciousness mean to you? Any- 
thing certain and definite, or is it a vague, wavering concept, hard to put 
your mental finger on? How do you get a firm grip on it? Is it not by 
turning over in mind the concrete facts, conditions, classes, leaders and 
movements of society. How would you try to explain the term to another 
if not by illustrations and references to facts? Perhaps we assimilate the 
new phrase to an old one, but we find their meanings are not identical. 
How else can you differentiate them so well as by reference to the concrete 
situations to which they apply? 

Experience with students in interpreting selections proves that 
abstract statements are far more often misunderstood, even when simple, 
than concrete ones. Take the sentence, "When an American citizen is con- 
tent with voting merely, he consents to accept a doubtful alternative." 
This has often been misunderstood, and more often remained meaningless, 
until it has been translated into concrete terms, as "Jeremy Diddler and 
Dick Turpin;" or, better, into the names of two rascally candidates known 
to the student. For me it becomes significant when I think of an alder- 
manic election where one candidate was described as a knave and the" 
other as a fool. Then the meaning is vivid enough. Indeed, how can one 
think about the matter, really think about it, otherwise? Is it not the 
natural action of the mind when one tries to attend to this expression, to 
refer to actual political conditions? From the same paragraph is taken 
this sentence, which has made more trouble than the other: "In a rural 
community such as this country was a hundred years ago, whoever was 
nominated for office was known to his neighbors, and the consciousness of 
that knowledge was a conservative influence in determining nominations." 
Surely not a difficult thought, but it has proved very indistinct to many 
until there has been pictured a country village with a caucus in progress. 
Bill Jones is an aspirant for the nomination for supervisor, but the leaders 
are shaking their heads because all the folks know of Bill's shady connec- 
tions with a certain bridge company. Any clear-headed person gets readily 
enough the main outlines of the selection from which these quotations are 
taken (see end of Chapter II.) ; but it is much clearer, and of course much 
more vivid to those who by experience, observation and study, have gained 
a knowledge of political conditions. 

Not only is it well to think in concrete terms ; but frequently it 



1 O'Shea, Linguistic Development and Education,, p. 220. 

50 



is helpful to be specific, as has been done above. That is to say, 
translate not only into terms of houses and men, which may after all 
be very vague, but into particular houses, particular men. 

I have used the words abstract and concrete in their popular meanings, 
which are not inconsistent with their ordinary scientific usage. Some 
writers, however, give the terms modified meanings not without suggestion 
for us. Professor Dewey x says, "Concrete denotes a meaning marked off 
from other meanings so that it is readily apprehended by itself. When we 
hear the words, table, chair, stove, coat, we do not have to reflect in order 
to grasp what is meant. The terms convey meaning so directly that no 
effort at translation is needed. The meanings of some terms and things, 
however, are grasped only by first calling to mind more familiar things 
and then tracing the connections between them and what we do not under- 
stand. Roughly speaking, the former kind of meanings is concrete; the 
latter abstract." So "what is familiar is mentally concrete." If you are 
beginning physics molecule is abstract, for you have to translate it; when 
at home in the subject the term becomes concrete. So concreteness is a 
relative matter, depending on the intellectual progress of the individual. 

Now, since the purpose of thinking out our subjects concretely 
is to insure definite understanding and an assured, easy grasp by 
the attention, we may quite as well adopt this definition of Dewey 's, 
and say : Think out your subject in terms with which you are so 
familiar, of the meanings of which you are so certain, that no trans- 
lation is necessary. One has but to reflect on his difficulties in get- 
ting with certainty and clearness the thought in a passage from a 
foreign tongue in which he is not thoroughly at home, to appreciate 
the force of this advice. 

Dewey goes farther and finds that the limits of the concrete, that is, 
the familiar, "are fixed mainly by the demands of practical life. Things 
such as sticks and stones, meat and potatoes, houses and trees, are such 
constant features of the environment of which we have to take account in 
order to live, that their important meanings are soon learnt, and indis- 
solubly associated with objects The necessities of social inter- 
course convey to adults a like concreteness upon such terms as taxes, elec- 
tions, wages, the law, and so on By contrast, the abstract is 

the theoretical, or that not intimately associated with practical concerns. 
The abstract thinker . . . deliberately abstracts from application in 

life; that is, he leaves practical uses out of account When 

thinking is used as a, means to some end, good, or value beyond itself, it is 
concrete; when it is employed simply as a means to more thinking, it is 
abstract." Education should develop the capabilities, possessed by every 
human being, to think in both ways. "Nor is theoretical thinking a higher 



How We Think, P- 136. 

51 



type of thinking than practical. A person who has at command both types 
of thinking is of a higher order than he who possesses only one." 

Here again, we find food for thought. * ' Think concretely ' ' now 
becomes: Think out your subjects with reference to their practical 
bearings; think not only in terms of men and things and institu- 
tions, but also in terms of their aims, uses and purposes. The great 
majority of men grasp truth much more readily and understand it' 
much more clearly in connection with its practical applications. 

These are some of the ways in which we can think through a 
subject. In general, we may say that the more ways in which we 
think our topic through, the more angles from which we approach it, 
the more lines along which we run it out, the more relations we es- 
tablish with other subjects of which we already have some under- 
standing; in fact, the more we think, really think, about' it. the 
firmer will grow our mastery and the easier our attention, j 

The truth of this last statement will be more apparent as we 
consider now more particularly the problem of sustaining attention. 
We noted in Chapter IT. that attention is intermittent and cannot 
be sustained upon one object or idea for more than a very few sec- 
onds. While this may not be true as regards passive attention, it 
will be generally agreed that James is right in saying, 1 "There is no 
such thing as voluntary attention sustained for more than a few 
seconds at a time. What is called sustained voluntary attention is 
a repetition of successive efforts which bring the topic back to the 
mind. The topic once brought back, if a congenial one, develops; 
and if its development is interesting it engages the attention pas- 
sively for a time. . . . This passive interest may be long or 
short. . . . No one can possibly attend continuously to an ob- 
ject that does not change." Professor James quotes with approval 
from Hemholtz: "The natural tendency of attention when left to 
itself is to wander to ever new things ; and so soon as the interest of 
its object is over, so soon as nothing is to be noticed there, to some- 
thing else. If ive wish to keep it upon one and the same object, ive 
must seek constantly to find out something new about the latter, 
especially if other powerful impressions are attracting us away." 
James continues, "These words of Hemholtz are of fundamental 
importance. And if true of sensorial attention, how much more 
true are they of the intellectual variety ! The conditio sine qua non 

1 Briefer Course, p. 224. 

52 



of sustained attention to a given topic of thought is that we should 
roll it over and over incessantly and consider different aspects and 
relations of it in turn. . . . 

' ' And now we see why it is that what is called sustained atten- 
tion is the easier, the richer in acquisitions and the fresher and more 
original the mind. In such minds, subjects bud and sprout and 
grow. At every moment, they please by a new consequence and 
rivet the attention afresh. But an intellect unfurnished with ma- 
terials, stagnant, unoriginal, will hardly be likely to consider any 
subject long. A glance will exhaust its possibilities. . . . The 
longer one does attend to a topic the more mastery of it one has. 
And the faculty of bringing back a wandering attention over and 
over again is the very root of judgment, character and will." 

The following quotation from Angell x is suggestive along the 
same lines : — ■ 

"To keep a thought alive we must keep doing something with it." 
Continuing he speaks of a school boy staring at his book, but unable to 
keep his mind from more genuine interests. "For such a youth the sole 
possibility of progress consists in taking the topic and forcing his atten- 
tion to turn it over, ask questions of it, examine it from new sides. 
Presently, even though such questions and inspection be very foolishly 
conceived, the subject will start into life, will begin to connect itself with 
things he already knows, will take its place in the general furniture of his 
mind; and if he takes the next and all but indispensable step, and actually 
puts his knowledge to some use, applies it to some practical problem, in- 
corporates it, perhaps, in an essay, or even talks about it with others, he 
will find he has acquired a real mental tool he can use, and not simply a 
dead load he must carry on his already aching back. What we call attend- 
ing to a topic for a considerable time will, therefore, always be found to 
consist .in attending to changing phases of the subject." 

The speaker needs the power of sustained attention. He needs 
this power both in his preparation and when delivering his speech. 
He can do much by determined effort to attend, by shutting out 
intruding thoughts and by forming a habit of never working or 
speaking with wandering attention. But much more than sheer will 
power is needed. It is desirable that attention should be as uncon- 
scious as possible ; that is, that it should be of the secondary passive 
order. To this end, the speaker should, in the first place, choose 
topics of interest. 

1 Psychology, p. 77. 

53 



Then the speaker should not be content with bare understand- 
ing, but should gather ample materials to the end that his words may 
be large with meaning and alive with interest. He should have 
special knowledge of his subject, the most complete knowledge the 
case permits ; and then he should have this knowledge analyzed and 
synthesized into order, so that each fact and principle has a clear 
relation to the whole. He should have the orderly knowledge of a 
specialist. Then statement will be clear, interest developed and at- 
tention easy. 

A speaker cannot always be a specialist on his themes, in the 
full sense of the word, though that would be desirable ; but he can 
and should approach the specialist. It is no objection that complete 
preparation along the lines suggested would take a long time. Good 
speeches usually are the product of long preparation, but the direc- 
tions are practicable for a speech that has to be "gotten up" in a 
short time. A speaker presumably begins with a subject on which 
he is fairly well informed. After even a few hours of reading, pro- 
vided there is thinking as well as reading so that the matter is as- 
similated, he will find that related thoughts leap at him from many 
a page and many an experience; and the theme will begin to tyran- 
nize over his attention and take shape in his mind. 

Suppose you are to speak on Lincoln. Presumably you know 
a good deal about your subject. You may well apply the directions 
of Angell and James : "To keep a thought alive . . . keep turn- 
ing it over and over, keep doing something with it;" and "roll it 
over and over incessantly and consider different aspects of it in 
turn." "Ask questions of it; examine it from all sides." Ask all 
sorts of questions, even those that seem foolish ; they may lead to 
something. It will help greatly to write your questions and facts 
and ideas down on slips of paper, one point on a slip. These can be 
arranged and re-arranged, the fruitless ones rejected and the rest 
brought into a system which shows clearly the relation of points. By 
this process your mind is kept "attending to the changing phases of 
the subject," and your associations for the name Lincoln will be 
brought to mind and sifted. Also, you will have arrived at an indi- 
vidual view-point, have formed some opinions and will have a 
tentative plan and outline. This is the first stage of your prepara- 
tion. 

54 



You will recall that James says, "sustained attention is the 
easier, the richer the acquisitions and the fresher and more original 
the mind." You may not be able to increase the originality of your 
mind ; but you can come to your work with a fresh mind, and you 
can increase its acquisitions. This brings us to the second stage of 
preparation, — reading about Lincoln. In ideal preparation you 
would read everything obtainable. In practice you should read as 
much as time and opportunity permit, reading especially on that 
phase of Lincoln which constitutes your theme. You will read more 
to the purpose, with better assimilation and with less danger of 
merely echoing the thoughts of others, because of the preliminary 
work. Here, too, good use can be made of slips or cards for note- 
taking, and as the reading proceeds the slips can be arranged with 
reference to main-heads that will stand out. 

"Knit each new thing on to some acquisition already in mind;" 
for example, each fact you glean with regard to Lincoln's attitude 
toward slavery will not be left isolated, but will be compared with 
what you already have on that point, confirming or correcting your 
views, and will thus be assimilated. All the matter, old and new, 
should be turned over in the mind and considered in all its aspects 
and relations. Sift, compare, contrast. "To think," says Halleck, 1 
"is to compare things with each other, to notice wherein they agree 
and differ, and to classify them according to those agreements and 
differences." J 

In treating of an individual you will naturally think concretely. 
Reduce all, so far as practicable, to familiar terms. Compare 
Lincoln's experiences with familiar experiences and his traits with 
those you have observed. Consider all in its practical bearings. For 
instance, ask yourself how Lincoln's characteristics as man, laivyer, 
president, would lead him to act today. What practical suggestions 
can be drawn from his life? Probably these directions are not so 
much needed, however, in dealing with this topic as with those of a 
more abstract nature. A man's life is one of the most concrete of 
subjects^ 

It matters not that much you have learned and thought cannot 
be used in your speech ; no truth about Lincoln need be considered 
wasted, though some truths are more important than others. All go 

1 Psychology and Psychic Culture, p. 180. 

55 



to build up the concept Lincoln in your mind; the man grows 
more and more real to you and more and more the topic commands 
your attention. 

At the same time you have gained command of your topic. 
"The longer one does attend to a topic the more mastery of it one 
has. ' ' This will undoubtedly be true where the attention is genuine 
and abundant material is provided for it to work upon. Such at- 
tention must of course be distinguished from mere sitting over a 
subject with wits wool-gathering. But given right conditions, the 
time element is important, giving opportunity for the topic to "bud 
and sprout and grow," — for the relations to be worked out and the 
processes of assimilation to be completed. Give time for "uncon- 
scious cerebration ; " or, in homely phrase, for the matter to ' ' soak 
in." Even though you have but little time for preparation, give 
part of that little early if possible. Though a speaker does a great 
deal of hard work at the end, without time for adjustment' he will 
ordinarily exhibit poor control of his thoughts and self-consciousness. 

Now that you have gained a certain mastery of your subject, 
you can speak with clearness, proportion, and, because the subject 
means so much to you, with an earnestness which constitutes the 
charm of a speaker who is "full of his subject," as contrasted with 
a speaker of shallow knowledge. We all like to hear a speaker who 
has known the hero he eulogizes, or has been through the experience 
he describes, or has fought for the cause he advocates; because, as 
we say, "his subject means something to him." There is a sense of 
reality and a ring of earnestness rather than simulated or forced 
interest. It is here that the older man often has an advantage over 
a younger speaker, whose flashy enthusiasm is much less impressive 
than the quieter words of -the veteran. This advantage of experience 
cannot be entirely overcome ; but the young speaker can so fill his 
mind with his subject that he can approach the power of his elders. 

In speaking on a more abstract subject, say a principle like 
arbitration, the above teachings are still more needed. A man of 
large historical knowledge and long diplomatic experience, like 
Andrew D. White, will find little trouble in fixing his mind upon 
arbitration. There are so many phases, relations, applications, con- 
crete facts without number, men who have advocated or condemned, 
councils, signs of progress, — such a wealth of thought material, that, 

56 



unless some still stronger stimulus holds the field, attention will soon 
be involuntary. The young speaker has no such advantage ; but by 
the process outlined above he can change arbitration from an un- 
certain object of thought, wavering because of lack of mooring in 
his mind, into a strong, clear concept. In the beginning he may 
have .had but a second-hand enthusiasm, or a hope that arbitration 
would "do for a subject;" now that he has worked over many facts 
and theories, he may have convictions. And arbitration will now 
continue to have a genuine interest. and meaning for him, although 
much of the material seems to fade out of memory. 

So far we have dealt with preparation. Although the effect 
upon delivery has been one of the chief objects in view, but little 
need be said on this head. "We must think on our feet, think the full 
meaning of our words as we speak them and keep attention firm, no 
matter what the distractions. The clearer our understanding, the 
stronger the hold of the ideas upon our minds, the more nearly we 
have approached the stage of passive attention, the easier our task 
will be. Perhaps only a small proportion of the material we have 
gathered will be present in consciousness as we speak ; but if we have 
thought the matter through repeatedly, with vigorous attention, the 
association of ideas will insure that our words shall represent large 
content. Thought is quick and when a speaker's mind is filled with 
his subject, there is much more in consciousness than is put into 
words. There may be more in the pauses than in the phrases. 

It would be impossible, and distracting to attempt, to hold in 
mind all the matter that has had place in the preparation. But one 
who considers chiefly the rapid processes of silent reading or of 
silent thinking, with their many short-cuts, is likely to underestimate 
the fulness of the thought process in oral delivery. At any rate, the 
speaker must make sure that he delivers his words with full and 
definite "consciousness of meaning." 

One has often to repeat a speech and finds himself ' ' stale. ' ' He 
will find that the best way to freshen his interest is to repeat the 
steps of his original preparation, going over his data, the concrete 
situations, the analyses. Often it will be best to prepare a new 
speech, using the same material but approaching the subject from a 
new angle, — a process which will demand thinking. 

I have heard a selection cut from Carlyle's Past and Present 

57 



more than 5000 times. Naturally it sometimes becomes stale ; but 
I can always restore its interest by thinking it out again in terms of 
men and conditions, the situations to which it applies, following out 
a bit the lines of thought it suggests. Of course, a selection to stand 
such a test must be one of great worth. But such a one grows from 
year to year. 

Often a student in preparing for a speaking contest begins to 
lose interest. He is sure to if his preparation has not been genuine, 
if it has been too much a matter of words and form and is not based 
on conviction. My standard prescription is: Go fill yourself with 
this subject ; read about it, talk about it with those who know ; forget 
your speech and ponder the subject till you really want to speak be- 
cause you have a message. If the topic will not bear such treatment, 
or if the student is incapable of following the advice, his case is 
hopeless; though he may make "a very pretty speech." 

Since one of the most common ways of learning to make public 
speeches is to interpret and deliver selections, it will be well to make 
application to this branch of our work. You wish to master and as- 
similate the ideas of your selection. After gaining an understand- 
ing of the meaning of the words before you. you may proceed by a 
process not altogether unlike that you would have gone through had 
you written the selection yourself. Perhaps it treats of political 
duty and political corruption. Your author will probably refer to 
concrete instances and these form associations for the ideas. But 
you are not limited to these. You have gone through political cam- 
paigns. First-hand knowledge is best. Then you have heard and 
read of politics, local, state and national ; you have knowledge of con- 
ditions in various cities, New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco; 
certain leaders and bosses are familiar from pictures and cartoons ; 
you know something of various reform movements, direct nomina- 
tions, short ballots, commission form of city government, municipal 
leagues, and the like. All this you bring out of memory, or as much 
as has any bearing on your selection, and by means of it you begin 
to assimilate your speech. 

Very likely your knowledge is limited and vague. You can 
continue your work by reading and by conversation with those who 
have more information and experience. If your selection refers to 
the Tweed regime in New York City, you will look that up especially. 

58 



Some of the possible sources would be the report prepared by Samuel 
J. Tilden, Myers's History of Tammany Hall, the second volume of 
Bryce's American Commonwealth, the files of the papers of the 
period, say Harper's Weekly, then edited by George William Curtis 
and illustrated with Nast 's famous Tammany cartoons. Accounts of 
later struggles in New York and in other ring-ruled cities will give 
a more present-day aspect to the subject. 

You may have thought you understood the selection at the first 
reading, but now jovl find it vastly more significant. It may come to 
mean as much to you as to its author ; indeed, it may mean more. He 
has furnished you a suggestive form of words; what their content 
shall be depends largely upon you. With this work well done, atten- 
tion will be easily sustained upon the platform, and embarassment, 
that bete noire of the beginner, will be lost in the interest of the 
speech. 

Note well, however, that your work should be specific. It is of 
little use to go over things in the general way I have here. If the 
idea of direct nominations is to be of service, you must run it out 
far enough to see clearly how it affects the problem of ' ' shaping the 
alternative ; ' ' and a general notion that there has been corruption in 
San Francisco will be of but the slightest value. 

It will be profitable for the student, at this point, to think out for him- 
self the applications of the principles of this chapter to the treatment of 
audiences. 



59 



CHAPTER IV. 

IMAGINATION. 

In the preceding chapter it has been urged that we should base 
our thinking upon large knowledge of fact, that we should develop 
the power of attention to a given topic, as does the specialist, by 
means of an organized mass of information upon the subject, and 
that we should draw out our abstractions from concrete instances. 
If we follow out these teachings our minds will tend to be filled with 
images. We learned also the desirability of staying with our ideas, 
of turning them over in as many ways as possible ; for ' ' the longer 
one does attend to a topic the more mastery of it one has." In 
harmony with these principles I wish now to emphasize the truth of 
this quotation from Betts : x " The more types of imagery into which 
we can put our thought, the more fully it is ours." _.. 

A little introspection will show us that much of our thought 
stuff consists of what psychologists call images. Their use of the 
word is technical and covers not only what one sees in the "mind's- 
eye;" but also what one hears in the mind's ear, and movements, 
tastes, smells, touches which one experiences in imagination. When 
there comes into mind a picture, one is said to have a visual image; 
when one hears sounds not actual, as when a musician hears the 
music of the score he is reading, one has an auditory imagi . 

"I call up a former experience in which I was playing foot- 
ball, ' ' says Professor Scott ; 2 . . . I feel in imagination the 
straining of the muscles as I attempted to push against the line. I 
imagine the terrible struggle, the twisting, straining and writhing 
of every muscle, tendon and joint. As I imagine it, I find the state 
is re-established and I am unconsciously leaning toward the goal as 
if the experience were a present one. My motor imagery of the foot- 
ball game is almost as distinct as the motor perception of moving 
the table. ... In my imagination I feel a fly slowly crawling 



1 Mind and its Education, p. 105. 
-Psychology of Public Speaking, Chapter I. 

60 



up my nose — I have a tactual image of it — and the image is so 
strong* that I have to stop to rub my nose. I ate a peach this morn- 
ing. . . . As I think of how it tasted, my mouth waters — I 
have a vivid gustatory image of the peach. . . . As I think of 
how the gas factory smelt yestercla} r when I passed it, I have an 
olfactory image of the gas. ... As I think of how it felt when 
I stepped on a rusty nail, I have a mental image of the pain." 

Sometimes these images are so vivid that we mistake them for 
perceptions coming through the senses. We think we saw Brown on 
the street today, but learn he was out of town ; we think we hear a 
call, but no one is near; we think the bullet has pierced our flesh, 
but the surgeon finds only a hole in our coat. 

Individuals differ with regard to the forms of imagery which 
predominate in their consciousness, and they differ in the vividness 
of their imagery ; but images are common to all. The majority have 
visual images as their most vivid form and are said to be "eye- 
minded." Others are " ear-minded;" while others are more 
strongly motor. The other forms of images are usually less distinct. 
Most persons are of mixed type and have, in varying degrees of 
distinctness, all or several of the forms. 

The tendency of thought to come in image form is to be en- 
couraged by the speaker. The reasons may be gleaned from some 
quotations from Ladd's Outlines of Psychology (p. 130) : 

The "variable characteristics of ideas . . may be summed up under 
three heads: (1) Intensity, (2) life-likeness, or 'fulness .of content,' and 
(3) objectivity. By the first of these three characteristics is understood 
. . its [the idea's] pungency, so to speak, or ability to take command 
of the attention and force a focussing of attention upon itself. By the 
life-likeness of an idea is understood its ability to represent the original in 
all the concrete particulars which belong to that original. Life-like ideas 
are more content-full, less meagre, .... than those that lack life. 
By the objectivity of an idea is meant the amount of conscious reference 
which it carries, so to speak, to some actual experience." Further on (p. 
132) Ladd says: "Other consideration being disregarded, ideas move the 
soul and the body in accordance with their varying degrees of intensity. 

With the requisite intensity they may have all the influence 

which sensations and perceptions have. .... Starting from the most 
'ideal' of mental states we may so increase its intensity and life-likeness as 
to get from it all the bodily effects of sensation and sense-perception." So 
Balzac "could produce, in his own body, the sharpest pain of being cut 

61 



with a knife by imagining himself cut." So too, it may be added, we may 
live again through vivid mental experiences, or thrill with the creations 
of pure imagination. 

On p. 149 Ladd compares the advantages of thinking in images and in 
ideas that have been "freed" to a great extent from imagery. "For pur- 
poses of recognition and as motives to immediate action, there is a certain 
great advantage belonging to the most intense, life-like, and objective of 

our mental states When vivid, life-like, and capable of easy 

objective reference, our ideas are most like our concrete states of sensation 
and perception." 

Without any desire to ignore the limitations of thinking in 
images, I still wish to urge the value of thinking out our topics in 
a way to secure the characteristics least likely to be exhibited by 
the ideas of young speakers, — intensity, or "pungency, . . the 
ability to command the attention ; ' ' life-likeness, or l ' fulness of con- 
tent;" and objectivity, or "reference to the world of real existen- 
ces." Given these characteristics, listlessness and declamation, — 
the two forms of insincerity, — will disappear. 

All this is far from saying one cannot think without vivid 
imagery. Under given circumstances, one can think more rapidly 
and more scientifically in word images alone. The student of 
philosophy, for example, becomes trained to abstract thinking. 
Other highly trained men sometimes come to think with little 
imagery, they take mental short-cuts ; but I have this from Profes- 
sor Titchener : 1 li There is no general rule that the best thought 
tends to become imageless. It seems to be a fact that our bookish 
and wordy age tends to lack of imagery. But the most successful 
men, whether in literature or science are very often those who have 
conserved and trained their powers of imagery in all directions. — 
I see I have myself slipped into the phrase 'lack of imagery.' Of 
course, 'imageless' thinking is in reality simply thinking in one 
dominant type of imagery, the motor or kinaesthetic. Imagery al- 
ways remains, but it may be cut down to the mere feel of the word 
uttered ; and when it has got so far, we speak of 'lack of imagery. ' — 
The all-round man is the man who can think and think hard in the 
purely verbal way or in more discursive ways, with the use of 
symbols (visual, auditory, kinaesthetic) that lie nearer to the pri- 



1 From a personal letter, by permission. 

62 



mary experiences of life. The gift of verbal thinking is a gift; but 
to be confined to it is a limitation. ' ' 

To be confined to verbal thinking would be a limitation indeed 
to the public speaker. It is true he should be able to think as clearly 
and impartially as the philosopher and the scientist. Let him think 
out his speeches abstractly also ; let him view them in their broad, 
universal aspects; get at the underlying principles, the general 
truths. This way of viewing a topic is highly important in itself; 
and, besides, the more ways the better. But it is also true that when 
the speaker has thought out his truth and is preparing himself for 
delivery, he must be able to think his thoughts in a life-like, vivid 
form, so that they arouse his interest and earnestness. Then they 
will command him and his voice will have the ring of sincerity. And 
experience with college students, who lack large experience, who are 
in training daily for abstract thinking, for the induction of prin- 
ciples from soon-forgotten data, and who too often prepare speeches 
that are mere abstracts, convinces me that there is need of insisting 
upon the teachings of this and the preceding chapter: That the 
young speaker should found his thinking upon ample concrete data, 
given warmth and color and life by imagination. 1 

I have emphasized the value of imagery chiefly as intensifying 
interest, and hence aiding attention and arousing the speaker to his 
work. In many cases imagery is an important aid to clearness of 
thought. Take, for examples, the inventor, the statesman, or any 
one who has to realize an object or situation not actually present to 
the senses. So too the mathematician treating of solid forms and 
the physicist considering atoms and natural laws is aided by imagi- 
nation. Judd, 2 while urging the advantages of verbal thinking, 
says that "words should be checked from time to time by concrete 
images." "An illustration ... is a direct corrective of the 
possible looseness of verbal thought and verbal communication." 
Where objects, or models, or even illustrations are not available, a 
figure of speech is a relief from purely verbal thinking. "While ' ' it 



1 "The feeling that instruction in 'facts, facts' produces a narrow Gradgrind is 
justified, not because facts in tnemselves are limiting, but because facts are pre- 
sented as such hard and fast ready-made articles as to leave no room to imagi- 
nation. Let the facts be presented so as to stimulate imagination, and culture 
ensues naturally enough." — Dewey's How We Think, p. 224. 

-Psychology, p. 272. 

63 



would be quite impossible in any generalized science, like physics, 
continually to deal with concrete illustrations;" still one "may 
come back from time to time to the single illustration in order to 
hold his verbal idea true to the concrete facts." 

The word imagination has a variety of meanings, and unfor- 
tunately suggests to some the fanciful, which they consider un- 
worthy. "The imaginative is not necessarily the imaginary," says 
Dewey. It is true that without control imagination may lead us far 
astray; but rightly controlled, in the words of Professor Scott, "the 
great function of , the imagination is to reveal to us the innumerable 
forms of reality. ' ' Says Betts : x 

"The imagination is not a process of thought which must deal chiefly 
with unrealities and impossibilities, and which has for its chief end our 
amusement. . . . It is rather a commonplace, necessary process, which 
illumines the way for our everyday thinking and acting — a process without 
which we think and act by haphazard chance or blind imitation. It is the 
process by which the images from our past experiences are marshalled and 
made to serve our present. Imagination looks into the future and con- 
structs our pattern and lays our plans. It sets up our ideals and pictures 
us in the acts of achieving them. It enables us to live our joys and sor- 
rows, our victories and defeats, before we reach them. It looks into the 
past and allows us to live with the kings and seers of old, or it goes back 
to the beginning and sees things in the process of making. It comes into 
our present and plays a part in every act from the simplest to the most 
complex 

"... Suppose I describe to you the siege which gave Port Arthur 
to Japan. Unless you can take the images which my words suggest and 
build them into struggling, shouting, bleeding soldiers; into forts and en- 
tanglements and breastworks; into roaring cannon and whistling bullet 
and screaming shell— unless you can take all these separate images and 
out of them get one great unified complex, then my description will be to 
3^011 only so many words largely without content, and you will lack the 
power to comprehend the historical event in any complete way. Unless 
you can read the poem and out of the images suggested by the words re- 
construct the picture which was in the mind of the author as he wrote 
'The Village Blacksmith' or 'Snowbound,' the significance will have 
dropped out, and the throbbing scenes of life and action become only so 
many dead words, like the shell of the chrysalis a'fter the butterfly has lef I 
its shroud. . . . Without the power to reconstruct [the pictures] as 
you read, you may commit the words, and be able to recite them, and to 



1 Mind and its Education^ p. 128. 

64 



pass an examination upon them, but the living reality . . will forever 
escape you. 

"Nor is imagination less necessary in other lines of study. Without 
this power of building living, moving pictures out of images, there is little 
use to study science beyond what is immediately present to our senses, 
. . . The student who cannot get a picture of the molecules of matter, 
infinitely close to each other and yet never touching, all in vibratory mo- 
tion, yet each within its own orbit . . . — the student who cannot see 
all this in a clear visual image can never at best have more than a hazy 
notion of the molecular theory of matter ... So with the world of the 
telescope." ' 

Professor Ladd x tells us that the life-likeness of ideas depends 
on richness of content ; and this reminds us of the close connection 
between this topic and that of the preceding chapter. Imagination 
must have material with which to work. There come into conscious- 
ness as memories, sights, sounds, and so forth, which have before 
been present to the senses, though these never appear in quite their 
original form. We also imagine sights and sounds which we never 
have perceived. Though the mind has wonderful power in this di- 
rection, — creating for itself conditions and persons distant in time 
or space, constructing machines, statuary, or states, which have not 
yet come into being, living through experiences never met, forming 
even a clear notion of the action of unseen natural forces, — still 
imagination can never present anything which does not consist of 
already familiar elements. 2 We have done no better in picturing an 
angel than to attach w T ings to a beautiful human being and our gods 
are always glorified men. Almost any boy has his idea of what a 
battle is like, but it is made up from his experiences in fist and 
snowball fights and his little knowledge of guns and cannon, helped 
out by pictures and vivid descriptions. His idea may be very gro- 
tesque in some respects. So a villager may have a distorted concep- 
tion of life among the ' ' four hundred, " or a statesman of affairs in 
the Far East. The need of sufficient data is important; hence the 
desirability of accurate observation, wide reading and experience. 

It is an equally important fact that given sufficient data, 
imagination can use it as material to build vivid and true concep- 
tions. A gifted boy may by adding study to his small experience, 



1 OtitHnes of Psychology, p. 130. 

2 Angel 1, Psychology, p. 168, or any text. 

65 



gain such a true picture of a battle that he can write a realistic 
battle story ; and a shrewd villager may by adding to his knowledge 
of human nature gained at home what he can learn of the peculiar 
ways of ' ' society, ' ' gain a tolerably correct idea of its life. So too 
the statesman by study of materials at hand, warmed into life by 
constructive imagination, may gain a view of the situation in the 
Far East in which products, peoples and armaments fall into proper 
relations, each with due prominence, so that he can deal justly with 
problems which arise. He is like a blindfolded chess-player, only 
liis game is vastly more complicated. It would be much easier, of 
course, if one had actual observation and experience to reproduce 
directly; but it is rather rare that one has complete first-hand 
knowledge of a situation with which one has to deal, or of which one 
has to speak. "The image thus affords us," says Angell, 1 " the 
method by which we shake off the shackels of the world of objects 
immediately present to sense, and secure the freedom to overstep the 
limits of space and time as our fancy, or our necessity, may dic- 
tate." 

We wish to learn how the student of public speaking can bring 
the truths of this chapter to bear upon his work. In the nature of 
things, the directions cannot be altogether definite ; they must rather 
be suggestive. But to be as definite as possible : let the student in 
his preparation see in his mind's-eye the persons, things and condi- 
tions of which he is to speak ; let him hear the sounds, and let him 
think of himself performing the actions indicated, so far as they are 
actions proper to man. Let him give free rein to the impulse, which 
will exist if his thinking is vivid, to perform the actions suggested ; 
that is, to gesture. Much of this action may not be desirable on the 
platform, but no harm will be done in preparation. Perhaps the 
words of the speech will not of themselves suggest images. There is 
all the more need then to translate the abstractions into tangible 
images. Sometimes a single simple image will suffice ; again we shall 
be helped by elaborating a situation, even working out a sort of little 
drama. Sometimes it is sufficient that imagination build forms ap- 
proximately or essentially true to reality out of materials already in 



1 Psychology, p. ITS. 

66 



mind; at other times it is important that pictures be as true as pos- 
sible to fact, and then materials, if lacking, must be sought. 

Suppose, again, you are working up a speech on Lincoln. From 
numerous pictures and descriptions you can become familiar with 
his appearance; you come perhaps to feel you can hear him in his 
conversation and on the platform, and to feel yourself a member of 
his applauding audience ; you can learn his ways and seem to see him 
in his daily round, till, if it were possible for you to meet him on 
the street, you would feel like saying, "Good morning, Mr. Lin- 
coln ! ' ' Also you can realize vividly the situations in which he was 
placed. All this will add to your sense of reality and the verity of 
your conception, so that you will come to speak of Lincoln with a 
personal interest and a grasp which will go far toward putting you 
on an equality with those who really knew Lincoln face to face. 

If the speaker has an abstract theme, like arbitration, let him . 
as he gathers material, turn it into sights and sounds and action, 
into real men, real armies, real life. I recall a student who spoke 
upon labor strikes, saying that losses and suffering were so great that 
compulsory arbitration was a necessity, — all in a manner so indif- 
ferent that the class felt not the slightest interest. It was probably 
a shoddy reproduction of a magazine article, representing no real 
interest. Or, starting with a shallow interest, he had killed it with 
lifeless data. Best of all for him, of course, would have been a visit 
to an actual strike, say in the coal regions; but lacking that, a good 
substitute would have been found in the right sort of data, so trans- 
formed in imagination that he saw and heard and took part in a 
strike, with its mobs, its fights between strikers and soldiers, its at- 
tacks upon "scabs," its desperate men and wretched families. Then 
there would have been real earnestness ; not listlessness and not 
declamation. 

So far we have considered chiefly preparation for speaking 
rather than actual delivery. But brief direct application to delivery 
need be made. If the preparation has been thorough, there will be 
little danger of failing to "think at the instant of delivery." Stage 
fright may hinder, but stage fright is far less likely to attack one 
whose thought is clear and vivid. 

It is impossible to say just how much imagery should be present 

67 



in the speaker's mind as he speaks. If the sentences deal with ob- 
jective realities, as in narration and description, then a great deal of 
imagery should be present; for one can surely describe better to 
others what he himself images. This should not be taken as apply- 
ing only to those forms known rhetorically as narration and descrip- 
tion. Prose* adapted to public speech is nearly always notably con- 
crete. Moreover, abstractions may be translated into concrete forms, 
and this translation is often needed. Such a sentence as, ' ' One 
strong thing I find here below, the just thing, the true thing," may 
need some such image as that of a mighty oak in a storm, or a rock 
defying the sea, or an impregnable fortress, in order that due re- 
sponse may be aroused. 

Of course much that has come into mind in preparation must 
drop out, having served its purpose of putting meaning and feeling 
into our ideas and words. There should be no attempt to force the 
mind as one speaks to form some particular image, unless for the 
purpose of accurate description. The mind should be left as free as 
circumstances permit; but if in preparation the "thought move- 
ment" has been gone through repeatedly, with appropriate and 
helpful imagery encouraged and inappropriate and distracting 
imagery inhibited, imagination will tend to be helpfully active 
during delivery. 1 

However true it may be that some strong thinkers may speak 
well with little aid from imagination, it must never be overlooked 
that their mental processes are very different from those of the 
declamatory individual who speaks but empty words, whose "con- 
sciousness is empty of all but the sound and feel of the words. ' ' 2 
This must be insisted upon : that delivery must always be attended 



1 According to S. S. Curry, than whom no man is better qualified to speak 
on questions of vocal technique, imagination affects delivery by way of greater 
delicacy, decision and definiteness of touch (or stress), longer pause, increase of 
tone color and change of pitch. Dr. Curry's discussion will be found in his 
Imagination and the Dramatic Instinct, pp. 161-171 

2 "The merely declamatory individual is the man who speaks wholly from 
a kinaesthetic cue; at least that is the rule. He can be hauled up by having his 
attention fixed upon sound and sight for a while : — provided he has the rudi- 
ments of sound and sight images. The difference between speaking sense and 
nonsense is this : in the latter case, consciousness is empty of all but the sound 
and feel of the words ; in the former, the words are the expression of a conscious 
situation, the discharge of an aggregate idea." From Professor Titchener's let- 
ter, before mentioned. 

68 



b}' clear and vivid ''consciousness of meaning," in whatever form 
this may present itself. And this may be added, that one whose 
thinking lacks the warmth and color lent by imagery is not likely to 
hold strongly the attention of the general audience, or to more than 
remotely approach real oratory. The reasons for these last state- 
ments will be clearer in later chapters. 

Many references have been made in the preceding pages to the 
selection printed at the end of Chapter II. It may prove helpful to 
apply some of our teachings further to this selection. And in doing 
so it seems best not to be limited rigidly to application. Let us sup- 
pose you have already done the work suggested in the preceding 
chapter. You wish still further ' ' to think and feel yourself into the 
spirit of it." 

The first sentence is very simple; but what does public duty 
mean to you? Run this abstraction out into concrete details. To do 
so here would take undue space ; but I mean that this should be done 
very specifically, taking account of the responsibilities that rest 
upon a citizen of a republic, with special reference to the duty of 
selecting officials. You can see citizens going about their duties, 
rallying voters to the primaries, interviewing, writing letters, 
making speeches, forming clubs, or working in any other tangible 
ways. But you see certain sleek, self-satisfied citizens who do noth- 
ing but vote on election day. Plainly that is not enough ; not even 
if they take great pains to go and vote, as is the case with this man 
who goes all the way from New York to Chicago, leaving important 
business, just to vote. You may seem to see these men as real per- 
sons, men you know, or as typical citizens. Let them be tall or short, 
fat or lean, dressed so and so; that is, vividly conceived persons. 

You may seem to talk with them. To make the point clearer, 
you draw an analogy from the religious field, in which the evils of 
formalism are well recognized ; and you choose a familiar figure, the 
pharisee of Luke xviii. Look this gentleman up, but do not catch 
the wrong suggestion. For us it is formalism, not hypocrisy. (In 
the last sentence of the selection we are more strongly impressed 
with the self-righteousness of the Pharisee.) "But why do you call 
us political Pharisees?" demand the indignant citizens. "Don't 
you see — the 'doubtful alternative'?" you explain. "You may 

69 






have only a choice between two rascals, between John Doe, the paid 
tool of the public service corporations, and Kichard Roe, the coarse 
grafter." "But what should we do?" ask the citizens. "Help 
choose the candidates, go to the primaries; nay, go to work before 
the primaries, each doing something to secure at least one good can- 
didate. " And so on. This is only a hint of what may be done. It 
is not an attempt to say just what should come into your mind. 
Each mind will differ from all others. 

The scene about the polls is peculiarly open to the work of 
imagination. It is a little drama; and most students fail to "get 
into" this part, because they do not go beyond matter-of-fact. Let 
us stand and watch near the polling place in a corrupt district. 
Banners bearing the party slogans are stretched across the street. 
Dodgers are thrust into our hands and we read "Vote for Diddler 
and Reform!" A worker eagerly whispers to us, "Vote for good 
old honest Dick ! He is none of your snivelling reformers ; he won 't 
interfere with the boys. ' ' Up an alley we see a worker bargaining 
for votes at two dollars apiece ; while down the street comes a dive- 
keeper with a drove of drunken loafers he has kept in his back room 
all night, — all out to vote for Diddler and reform. Our friend, the 
honest and respectable citizen, steps from his carriage on his way 
down town, intent on doing his full political duty. He seems a bit 
shocked at the sights and the men who greet him, — "plug uglies" 
with flashy clothes, tal] hats, glass diamonds and long black cigars. 
Still, it is what he is used to; he has always left the "dirty work" 
of politics to such fellows. As he takes his ballot with a somewhat 
gingerly air, we hurl at him, "Don't forget your indifference is to 
blame for this shocking choice!" And we quote mockingly, "Vote 
for 'Turpin and honesty!' or, if you prefer, try 'Diddler and re- 
form!'" 

The scene is that of an election twenty-five years ago, when 
ballots were ' ' peddled ' ' by workers, who followed voters right up to 
the polls ; but while there has been improvement, the description will 
do well enough for many districts. Of course, it is necessary to be 
familiar with the careers of Dick Turpin and Jeremy Diddler, else 
the significance of the names is lost. Books of literary references 
will give the needed information. 

The rest of the speech may be worked out as a trial, with an 

70 



indictment, a plea, analysis of the evidence and final condemnation.. 
Of course this must not be pressed too far ; but it helps to bring out 
the thought movement. The last sentence is a good example of how 
imagination may help. Students usually rattle this off without dis- 
crimination of parts, and either indifferently or with mere loudness. 
Let the student put himself in the place of one who is out working to 
defeat the renomination of a grafting alderman. He goes to a friend 
to ask his help. But he finds his friend sitting before a cheerful 
fire reading, blissfully unconscious that there is anything to be done. 
Even when told, he is indifferent. "Why so excited?" he asks. 
"Sit down and have a chat." Our worker urges and his friend is 
driven to excuses. He wraps his snobbish respectability about him. 
and says it is no work for a gentleman. Pressed further, he begins 
to believe in his own excuses and, degenerating still further in his 
citizenship, he says, "I half believe this government is only the rule 
of a mob anyhow." And then quite convinced, he adds, "Between 
you and me, I hope we shall soon be rid of it; what we want is a 
vigorous despot." A man of earnest purpose who found himself 
confronted by such a citizen would surely be moved to kick him, 
and that feeling is what the speaker needs. 

These, I repeat, are but hints of what may be done. In a great 
variety of ways, in every clause and sentence, images of sights, 
sounds and movements, or imaginations of the sort just suggested,. 
will help to clear and vivid understanding. Imagination, rightly 
used, is the "instrument of reality." Let it be clearly understood, 
however, that there is no intention of excluding any means what- 
ever of preparing selections. Any genuine way of thinking them 
out is good. I have before, in Chapter II., explained other methods 
of study, particularly of relations. By every means get at the mean- 
ing and significance of your selection; stay with it as long as you 
can with vigorous attention; assimilate it. Remember, J' the longer 
one does stay with a topic the more mastery of it one has. ' ' Further 
on, I shall gather up these and other suggestions into a scheme of 
study ; but no scheme can cover the ground and there will be room 
for each clever individual to work out his own best methods. I have 
tried to emphasize certain methods which are especially helpful and 1 
which students are not likely to employ unless they are explained 
and emphasized. 

71 



CHAPTER V 



FEELING. 



We shall all agree that we wish one who addresses us to be in 
earnest ; and speakers well know that they cannot do their best 
unless they feel what they say. The feeling side of public speaking 
has been in mind in the preceding chapters; and I do not wish to 
suggest here that it is a distinct division of the subject or that any 
clear line can be drawn between thinking and feeling. Still it will 
be best to give the subject some special attention. 

In the first place, if any reader has a belief that feeling is an 
unworthy part of his nature, he should banish the notion at once. 
His prejudice is probably against excessive feeling, against emo- 
tional control in defiance of reason, or against over-free expression 
of emotion. To be without feeling would be to be without interest, 
without happiness as well as without sorrow, without motives and 
desires, good or bad. Feeling is a constant factor in the minds of 
all men. Interest is attention plus emotion. The man who loses 
himself in the study of insects is as truly emotional as one who 
glows with love of country. The strong man has strong but well- 
controlled feelings. Even the man who prides himself most on liv- 
ing the life of reason must, if he is a true philosopher, be led by one 
master emotion, — the love of truth. I have said so much that seems 
unnecessary because I often meet a foolish prejudice against the 
very words "feeling" and "emotion." 

Let it be perfectly clear that when we say the speaker needs to 
feel as well as think, we do not mean that he must be sentimental, 
or speak with "tears in his voice," or exhibit any extreme whatever, 
except in the rare instance in which extreme expression is the fitting 
response to the ideas expressed. Many a student speaker represses 
himself for fear of being insincere, forgetting that the affectation of 
indifference is no less insincere than the affectation of feeling. 
Sincerity demands responsiveness to the mood and feelings ex- 
pressed. — always within due bounds, of course. Self-control is good 
and necessary: but repression and indifference are not only insin- 

72 



cere ; they mean failure as a speaker. Even though the speech be as 
cold as a demonstration in geometry, still the speaker should be 
alert with desire to reach his hearers. In the nature of things, few 
speeches are cold; they deal for the most part with warm human 
interests and range through the whole gamut of emotions. 

The speaker should feel what he says. This is not only sincere, 
but also expedient. It may be that some actors go through their 
parts cold; and we may even admire the more their consummate 
skill. But a speaker is not an actor; he is not playing a part. He 
is expressing himself ; and the suspicion that he does not care about 
what he is saying, that he is not sincere, is fatal to his influence. 
And if a speaker is not sincere, he is almost sure to betray himself. 
There are subtle effects upon voice, the tones and the accent, which 
only the most skillful actor can control. There has been a man 
prominent in public life for many years who is called a great orator. 
Nature gave him a voice of such quality that his mere "Ladies and 
Gentlemen" sends a thrill through his hearers. He has held many 
an audience spellbound for hours; yet his influence has been notably 
small. Moreover, it has rapidly dwindled as his reputation for in- 
sincerity has grown; for even though one may trick an audience 
once or twice, he cannot continue to. For the average speaker, 
lacking a high degree of skill, deception is impossible. 

It is true that we sometimes hear men delivering with seeming 
earnestness, truths with which their practice does not square; but 
the contradiction is more apparent than real. Men often do believe 
earnestly in virtues which they do not practice. There is also a 
shallow type of man who makes himself believe in almost anything 
for the time being. But this will lead us too far afield. The point 
is that speakers rarely do speak with a tone of conviction without, 
at least for the time being, believing what they say. To deceive an 
intelligent audience is difficult. Of course, no intelligent hearer 
is deceived by mere loudness of tone, redness of face, or extrava- 
gance of gesture. 

Feeling is the most difficult subject with which we deal. Feel- 
ings will not bear watching and analyzing, nor can they be com- 
manded. A speaker cannot say: "Go to now, this is a patriotic 
occasion ; I will therefore feel patriotic ! ' ' What then is his case ? 
Must he wait till the feeling comes along and moves him out of his 

73 



indifference? This course would do, perhaps, if we could always 
speak on great occasions or before inspiring audiences; but we do 
not. Nor do we speak just when we feel like it. We speak generally 
on a set occasion, most often without inspiration from time or audi- 
ence ; we face hearers whose faces at best express only mild curiosity. 
If there is to be any life and interest and earnestness in the occasion 
we must arouse them. There are of course times and audiences that 
stimulate the speaker, but these are not the rule. Moreover, most 
speakers have to speak on a variety of topics and occasions. One 
who speaks on a single topic and always on the same sort of occasion 
will find it easier to be in the mood. Again, while the speaker does 
well usually to begin quietly and calmly; nevertheless, he must be 
thoroughly alert to his task and prepared in spirit at the start. He 
cannot afford to waste the initial interest of his hearers. What, 
then, can a speaker do to prepare himself emotionally for his 
address ? 

First, he can refrain from repressing his feelings unduly. Then 
he can by sheer will power arouse himself, throw off indifference. 
It helps to practice deep breathing and other exercises that make one 
physically alert. "Physical earnestness" is an important condition 
of mental earnestness. The far-reaching effect of physical condition 
and action upon the feelings is beyond dispute. This may be em- 
phasized by reference to that theory which holds that "the feeling, 
in the coarser emotions, results from the bodily expression." To 
quote Professor James: x — 

"Common-sense says, we lose our fortune, are sorry and weep; we 
meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by a rival, are angry 
and strike. . . The more rational statement is that we feel sorry be- 
cause we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble. . . 
Stated in this crude way, the hypothesis is pretty sure to meet with im- 
mediate disbelief." But Professor James proceeds to give an argument, 
too long and technical to be quoted here, which has convinced many. To 
quote further: "Everybody knows how panic is increased by flight, and 
how the giving away to the symptoms of grief or anger increases the pas- 
sions themselves. . . In rage, it is notorious how we "work ourselves 
up" to a climax by repeated outbursts of expression. Refuse to express 
the passion and it dies. Count ten before venting your anger, and its 
occasion seems ridiculous. Whistling to keep up courage is no mere figure 
of speech. On the other hand, sit all day in a moping posture, sigh, and 



I Briefer Course, p. 375. 

74 



reply to everything with a dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers. 
There is no more valuable precept in moral education than this, as all 
who have experience know: if we wish to conquer undesirable emotional 
tendencies in ourselves, we must assiduously, and in the first instance 
cold-bloodedly, go through the outward movements of those contrary dis- 
positions which we prefer to cultivate. The reward of persistency will 
infallibly come, in the fading out of the sullenness or depression, and the 
advent of real cheerfulnes and kindliness in their stead. Smooth the brow, 
brighten the eye, contract the dorsal rather than the ventral aspect of the 
frame, and speak in a major key, pass the genial compliment, and your 
hear, must be frigid indeed if it do not gradually thaw." 

It may be said that this theory of the emotions has not been 
generally accepted and that James himself later modified it; but 
this does not destroy the value of its suggestions to us. The fact 
that the theory bears the name of James and Lange and that it has 
had wide influence among scientists, is enough to convince us that 
it must contain a great deal of truth. The latter part of the quota- 
tion presents an idea of undoubted value to our purpose. We have 
some control over our feelings, even though we cannot command 
them directly. We can prepare ourselves for them at least. What 
more we can do Chapters III. and IV. have prepared us to consider. 

We are glad that we do not have to accept the James-Lange 
theory of emotion, and that we may retain our belief that feelings 
spring directly from perceptions and ideas, especially as we pass 
beyond the ' ' coarser emotions. ' ' If we go over the ground of Chap- 
ters III. and IV. again with this matter of feeling in mind, we shall 
find many of our questions already answered. 

The feeling which is aroused by a word or an idea depends 
chiefly upon the associations our minds have for it, upon the content 
we have put into it. Certain words, such as home, flag, mother, are 
notably strong in associations for nearly all, and hence are greatly 
overworked by cheap orators. Such words may, at a given time, 
bring little of definite thought or picture to mind ; yet they have an 
emotional effect since they are "overlaid" with feeling by the 
thoughts and experiences with which they have been associated. 
But the effect will be stronger when the associations are brought 
vividly to mind. 

Go over the thought material of which your speech is com- 
posed, considering the importance of the issues involved, the prac- 

75 



tical bearings, illustrations from history and experience, especially 
those warm with human interest ; bring the matter home to yourself 
in the most familiar and intimate way. Imagination has a great 
part to play here ; for it is the spring of sympathy. Young children 
often show lack of sympathy, because their limited experience does 
not enable them to "put themselves in the other fellow's place." 
By means of imagination put yourself into the very situation dis- 
cussed ; see and you will feel the struggle, the suffering, the triumph, 
or whatever the situation contains. The illustration used before of 
the student speaking on arbitration of labor strikes will fit here ; 
but the suggestion is just as good for almost any speech. 

In general, do the work outlined in Chapters III. and IV. But 
it is desirable that there should be some time between the analytic 
part of preparation and the delivery of the speech. The analytic 
frame of mind is cold. Abstraction, which is necessary to analysis, 
is proverbially cold. Clear analysis of the subject-matter is a neces- 
sary stage of preparation ; but this stage should give way to another 
in which the ideas are intense, life-like and objective. 

In considering feeling we are again impressed with the desira- 
bility of taking time in preparation. Feeling is not to be coerced; 
it is to develop from the thought as it is worked over and assimi- 
lated. The more thorough the assimilation the more genuine the 
feeling'. Only with thorough assimilation can there be the requisite 
selt'-forgetf ulness and abandon. When a man seems to speak out 
of earnest feeling without prolonged preparation, as did Henry W. 
Grady in his famous oration on the "New South," it will be found 
that back of the speech and the occasion lies long and thoughtful 
experience. 

A speaker who makes his study of Lincoln, arbitration, or the 
"honor system" in the ways before urged, will not lack sincere 
feeling. At the same time, since the work outlined will give grasp 
of his subject, he will not be unduly swayed by feeling. The ideal 
condition of the speaker demands strong feeling controlled by clear 
thinking. But this is the condition which makes a man strong in 
all sorts of activities, — feeling for motive power, thought to control 
and direct. The mental machine is useless if either is lacking. 

Just before delivery is a critical time with a speaker. He should 
take some pains to get himself physically and mentally ready; and 

76 



his friends and the chairman and committeemen should give him 
opportunity. It is highly desirable, of course, that the speaker be 
rested and that his nerves be at peace. Then he needs to arouse 
himself to physical alertness, and to run over the thought of his 
speech in order to get into its mood. A speaker sure of a hearing 
and with a long period at his disposal may not feel this need so 
greatly ; but a young speaker with but a few minutes granted can- 
not afford to risk a weak beginning. He should put definitely before 
himself both his subject and his object. It may help to say to him- 
self, "This is my opportunity; I must make the most of it." A 
certain nervous tension is unavoidable, and is indeed necessary ; but 
the speaker should avoid dwelling on his worries. The best way to 
forget them is to keep busy in the way of special preparation. 
Physical exercises are helpful to some. This refers strictly to the 
half-hour preceding the speech. It is often best to keep one's mind 
off one's speech for a day or more before delivery. 

It may be necessary in the midst of delivery to take one's self 
to task for drifting, not only in thought but also in feeling. Some 
speakers fall into one mood, which reveals itself in a monotonous 
tone. I have in mind a preacher who at a certain point in his ser- 
mon, about five minutes from the end, invariably drops into a low, 
supposedly solemn tone of final exhortation, — and this quite re- 
gardless of the character of his concluding remarks. Such habits 
are easily acquired, especially if one speaks often and always under 
similar circumstances. All such tendencies are to be fought by 
keeping constantly alert on the platform. It is also well for a 
speaker to watch his speeches to see that he does not encourage such 
habits by writing always in one vein. If he extemporizes much the 
danger of following habit is still greater; and he should either 
occasionally write a speech or have a stenographer reveal to him his 
tendencies. 



77 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE ATTENTION OF THE AUDIENCE A CHAPTER OF FRAGMENTS. 

No treatment of public speaking should omit consideration of 
the audience. In Chapter I. the relation of speaker to audience was 
the principal thought. We must now carry the thought further 
with reference to the preparation and subject-matter of the speech. 
One great fault of the teaching of public speaking has been the 
practical overlooking of the audience. The young speaker often 
fails to consider his audience, being so much occupied with his own 
processes. He may fear his audience, or may wish to impress it with 
his ability ; he may even wish very much to have his audience accept 
his ideas: but he rather rarely considers his hearers as men and 
women who 'think and feel and have opinions and prejudices. He 
assumes that an audience will understand whatever is said to it, and 
he rarely considers the best methods of approach, or of arousing and 
maintaining interest. Theoretically, of course, everybody knows 
this is wrong; all admit that the audience is the major considera- 
tion. 

For practical reasons which need no discussion, I can only call 
attention to the more important considerations concerning audi- 
ences. The questions raised, comments made and references given, 
are intended to form the basis for class discussion, or for inde- 
pendent study. 

A speaker must have the interest and attention of his audience. 
No matter that his speech is profound, if it is not listened to. And, 
generally speaking, it will not be listened to unless the audience 
finds it interesting. Very few members of the average audience will 
"listen by sheer will power ; nor is it desirable that they should. They 
will weary, and then will lose the force of the speech. It should be 
the aim of a speaker to hold attention without conscious effort on 
the part of his hearers. Whatever energy goes into mere effort to 
attend is lost to consideration of the thought. 

What themes are most likely to command the attention ? Novel 
or familiar? Academic or practical? In what ways are these ques- 

78 



tions affected by differences in audiences? By occasions? Think 
out these questions in detail and illustrate. 

Why do people like lectures on travel? On quaint customs of 
early or foreign peoples? A suggestion may be drawn from p. 47 
of these notes. 

What significance is to be found in the approving exclamation 
often heard: "That is just what I have been thinking, only I 
couldn't say it"? 

Suppose a speaker wishes to interest a given audience in a topic 
which seems entirely removed from their sphere of interest, say 
archaeology. Suppose you were addressing a southern audience on 
a social or economic question to which they do not respond. Can 
you suggest any means of gaining a derived interest in" either case ? 
Read again pp. 45-6. Can you draw any suggestions from the fol- 
lowing quotations from James's Talks to Teachei*s? 

Any object not interesting in itself may become interesting through 
being associated with an object in which an interest already exists. The 
two associated objects grow, as it were, together: the interesting portion 
sheds its interest over the whole; and thus things not interesting in their 
own right borrow an interest which becomes as real and as strong as that 
of any natively interesting thing. 

. . . There emerges a very simple abstract program for the teacher 
to follow in keeping the attention of the child: Begin with the line of his 
native interests, and offer him objects that have some immediate connec- 
tion with these. 

Next, step by step, connect with these first objects and experiences the 
later objects and ideas which you wish to instill. Associate the new with 
the old in some natural and telling way, so that the interest, being shed 
along from point to point, finally suffuses the entire system of objects of 
thought. 

If, then, you wish to insure the interest of your pupils, there is only 
one way to do it; and that is to make certain that they have in their 
minds something to attend with. . . . That something can consist in 
nothing but a previous lot of ideas already interesting in themselves and 
of such a nature that the incoming novel objects which you present can 
dovetail into them and form some kind of logically associated and system- 
atic whole. 

Why does this description of China hold attention ? 

It is a country where roses have no fragrance, and women no petti- 
coats; where the laborer has no sabbath, and the magistrate no sense of 
honor; where the roads bear no vehicles, and the ships have no keels; 

79 



where old men fly kites, . . and the sign of being puzzled is to scratch 
the heel. 

Work out as many considerations as you can arising from the 
experiences, the associations and general character of audiences. 
What difficulty arises from an audience composed of many kinds of 
people? 

Reconsider what was said (pp. 52-3) on the subject of sustain- 
ing attention and apply the principles to audiences. 

Apply what was said (pp. 48-52) on concreteness to the treat- 
ment of audiences. Consider also the limitations of concrete ex- 
pression, and the advantages belonging at times to abstract expres- 
sion. On concreteness read also Herbert Spencer's Philosophy of 
Style, paragraphs 9 and 10; Foster's Argumentation and Debating, 
p. 256; and Shurter's Rhetoric of Oratory, p. 114. 

Reread now the chapter on Imagination and apply its prin- 
ciples to the audience. 

Why do speakers so often employ stereopticon views? 

What effect upon a speaker's style is to be expected from the 
fact that his mind is active in imaging? 

Consider the following quotations : — 

We all of us feel the relief in any continued discourse when a figure 
of speech or an illustration is used. The figure of speech gives a fairly 
concrete image with which to deal. The image in this case may be remote 
from the immediate object of thought, it may be related to the present dis- 
cussion only as a kind of rough analogy, but the presence of some char- 
acteristic which illustrates and renders concrete the abstract discussion 
is a relief in the midst of abstract relational terms, and furnishes the 
means of correcting possible divergence of thought between speaker and 
listener. An illustration is even more definite in its character, and so 
long as it calls up in the minds of the speaker and the listener the same 
kind of concrete images, it is a direct corrective of the looseness of verbal 
thought and verbal communication. From Judd's Psychology, p. 272. 

A man who cannot translate his concepts into definite images of the 
proper objects is fitted neither to teach, preach, nor practice any profes- 
sion. He should waste as little as possible of the time of his fellow-mortals 
by talking to them. Halleck's Psychology and Psychic Culture, p. 188. 

The orator must be to some extent a poet. We are such imaginative 
creatures, that nothing so works on the human mind, barbarous or civil- 
ized, as a trope. Condense some daily experience into a glowing symbol 
and an audience is electrified. ... A popular assembly like the French 
Chamber or the American Congress is commanded by these two powers, — 

80 



first a fact, then by skill of statement. Put an argument into a concrete 
shape, into an image, some hard phrase, round and solid as a ball, which 
they can see and handle and carry home, and the cause is half won. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson in the essay on Eloquence. 

As illustrations of the last sentence of the last quotation we 
may recall, "Remember the Alamo!" and "Who shall haul down 
the flag ? ' ' Can you recall any others ? 

What practical consideration arises from the fact that, because 
of different experiences, the same word or sentence may arouse very 
different images and associations in different individuals ? 

Reread what was said (p. 62) on the limitations of imagination 
and apply to audiences. 

Which will more greatly stimulate the hearer's imagination, 
familiar or novel data? See Dewey's How We Think, p. 223. 

What practical considerations arise from the fact that indi- 
viduals vary greatly in regard to their dominating forms of imagery, 
as explained on p. 61? The following is from Professor Titchener's 
letter, before quoted: — 

The attitude of the speaker must be carefully distinguished from that 
of the audience. If the speaker is a visual, and his audience is made up 
predominantly of motors; his images are of no use. As a matter of fact, 
most audiences are largely visual; but there is a large motor element 
everywhere, and allowance must be made for it. . . . Another thing to 
remember is the audience's limits of attention. Shift from one type of cue 
to another on the part of the lecturer is more restful than the attempt to 
be concrete within the range of a single kind of cue. A man speaks very 
differently on the same subject, according as he speaks from sight, sound 
or feel. He becomes a different man; his language and the nature of his. 
appeal are different; and so the audience does not get tired. 



What are the principal purposes for which a speaker addresses 
an audience? Phillips, in his excellent Effective Speaking (p. 19), 
says ' ' the General Ends of Speech are five. The speaker wishes the 
listeners to see — Clearness, or to feel — Impressiveness, or to accept — 
Belief, or to do — Action, or to enjoy — Entertainment." Cicero says, 
' ' Oratory is the art of persuasion ' ' ; And Henry Ward Beecher, in 
his inspiring lecture on Oratory (p. 20), says, "I define oratory to 
be the art of influencing conduct with truth sent home by all the 
resources of the living man." Not all speech-making is oratory; 

81 



but there can be little doubt that persuasion, which looks to action 
and conduct as distinguished from understanding, conviction, or 
enjoyment, is peculiarly the purpose of public speaking. It is in 
persuasion that the spoken work is superior to the written. Speak- 
ing generally, the written word is more effectual for making ideas 
clear ; but when men are to be aroused to action, to vote, to change 
a habit, to adopt a line of conduct, to kindle with enthusiasm, then 
the speaker is needed. To be clear, to give pleasure, to induce be- 
lief, — these may be means, but only means, to persuasion. 

Let us glance at the more usual forms of public discourse. Lec- 
tures, especially college lectures, form an exceptional group ; their 
end is usually instruction. With regard to forensic addresses, it is 
well known that lawyers indulge in more than logical discussion of 
the evidence ; and even before the highest court, persuasion has its 
place. Webster's plea before the Supreme Court in the Dartmouth 
College case, is the stock example. Gardiner's Forms of Prose 
Literature (pp. 79, 316) furnishes opportunity for an interesting 
study of Joseph Choate's argument against the Income Tax law of 
1894. 

In deliberative speeches, before legislatures, conventions, or on 
the stump, wherever policies are to be decided by vote, persuasion 
is prominent in the appeal to motive, the arousal of feeling and the 
recognition of prejudice. In the pulpit persuasion is the dominant 
note; exposition and argument are but means to the end of influ- 
encing conduct. All other kinds of speeches are loosely classed as 
Occasional. It is true that their end often seems to be mere enter- 
tainment; or the display of the speaker's powers, as in Webster's 
much over-rated Bunker Hill addresses. But the more serious pur- 
pose of such memorial addresses, addresses at celebrations and 
eulogies is to inspire the hearers to greater patriotism 6r nobler liv- 
ing. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address is a model in miniature for all 
such orations. The moral is not always pointed; the most per- 
suasive speeches often let the exhortation be implied. The most 
effective sermons may omit the preaching ; just make vice ugly and 
hateful and virtue beautiful and desirable. 

Even at jovial banquets few speakers will be content to merely 
"give a stunt"; there is usually a persuasive point. The fun is 
used for a purpose beyond itself; though much tact must be used 

82 



and there are occasions when any serious purpose is manifestly ab- 
surd. But most banquets at which there is speaking, are not merely 
jovial. Some of the best American orations have been delivered at 
the dinners of the New England Society in New York City. It was 
at this dinner in December, 1878, that George William Curtis de- 
livered the speech on The Puritan Principle: Liberty under the Law, 
which Edward Everett Hale declared turned the nation from civil 
war. Yet it began humorously and blended with the spirit of the 
occasion. 

The point should not be pressed too far; but it is safe to say 
that persuasion is the peculiar purpose of public speaking, and that 
the speaker is at his best when he aims at persuasion. Persuasion 
is of course to be found in written discourse ; but it is interesting to 
note that when Genung and Baker come to treat of persuasion they 
both turn from the writer and address themselves to the speaker. 
The practical application for the young speaker is this : he will, gen- 
erally speaking, develop faster and get sooner into the spirit of 
speech-making by delivering persuasive speeches, though it is well 
to make other speeches occasionally. It is easier to get in touch with 
an audience when presenting a practical idea. And, to quote 
Genung, ' ' Practical truths, such as have a definite issue in character 
and action, personal truths, that come home to men's business and 
bosoms. — such are the material with which persuasion works; nor 
can it be truly potent except as it can fasten on a practical point, 
and make the whole thought concentrate itself on that. In a word, 
the whole sphere of duty, interest, privilege, happiness, conduct, is 
open to the work of persuasion ; no small sphere indeed, for conduct, 
as Matthew Arnold is fond of saying, is three-fourths of life. ' ' 

These are good references on persuasion, the first two with 
reference to argumentative speeches, the others in general; Baker's 
Principles of Argumentation, 1st ed. pp. 15, 367, revised ed. pp. 
291-397; Foster's Argumentation and Debating, pp. 262-278; Ge- 
nung 's Practical Rhetoric, pp. 447-474; Genung 's Working Prin- 
ciples of Rhetoric, pp. 642-662; Shurter's The Rhetoric of Oratory, 
p. 106 et seq. 

I wish here to warn especially against the common notion that 
persuasion is altogether a matter of ' ' appealing to the emotions, ' ' in 
the sense of direct attacks upon feeling and prejudices, especially in 

83 



introduction and conclusion. This is an error into which many 
treatises lead their readers. A great part of the real work of per- 
suasion would not generally be thought of as "appeal" or as emo- 
tional. It is true that persuasion has to do with feeling; that if 
men are to be moved to or to be restrained from a given line of 
conduct, they must be not only convinced, but moved strongly 
enough to will to do or not to do. A man does not change his 
politics, or his habits, or subscribe his money, or support a new 
cause, simply because he is made to see the course is good. "A man 
convinced against his will, is of the same opinion still." He must 
have motives arising from his pocketbook, his ambition, his love of 
family or friends, his aesthetic or his religious feelings, or from some 
other source, — motives strong enough to overcome his inertia, his 
prejudices, his desires. 

But the modern man, especially the educated man, and more 
especially the educated Anglo-Saxon, is suspicious of out and out 
appeals to his emotions. The modern speaker has to use indirection 
many times. There are, of course, times when indirection is needless 
or absurd. 

But we must go farther than to talk of indirect appeal, and 
point out, — what is usually overlooked, — that persuasion is at once 
a more subtle and a more common and pervasive element in dis- 
course than is generally supposed. We employ it constantly in con- 
versation. When we use tact, when we plan a good way of "getting 
at" people, when we adapt ourselves to our auditors, when we 
choose certain language, or certain illustrations because they will 
appeal to our hearers and arouse pleasant associations, often when 
we choose certain authorities in preference to others, when we 
arrange our arguments in order of climax, or begin with the strong- 
est in order to get a hearing, or place the weakest in the least con- 
spicuous place, when we omit points for fear of arousing prejudice, 
or add points for a particular audience, when we assume or avoid 
certain personal attitudes, as a didactic, or an aggressive, or a re- 
spectful attitude, — in these and dozens of other ways we are guided 
by considerations belonging to persuasion rather than to conviction. 
For conviction we need only the clearest language, the most logical 
arguments and order, and the most important facts. More direct 
appeals may be made in the conclusion, for the reason that your 

84 



audience, if you have succeeded at all, is in a better mood to tolerate 
such appeals. But from the above it will be seen that persuasion 
pervades the whole speech, and that everything in form and sub- 
stance may have persuasive effect. Everything that is suggested in 
this chapter is related, broadly speaking, to persuasion. The fact 
that in treatises on the subject of public speaking or of rhetoric, 
certain chapters are given up to the special consideration of persua- 
sion, should not mislead one into the belief that these chapters cover 
all that relates to the subject. For example, the chapter on "Action 
and the Impelling Motives," in Phillips' Effective Speaking, is a 
good reference on persuasion; but so are several of the chapters 
which precede and follow. 

It is well to recognize that the greatest persuasive force is in 
"the man behind the speech," — in his personality, strength of 
character, his will power, his presence, his manner, his confidence, 
his sincerity, his reputation, his relation to his subject and to the 
audience. A man of notoriously bad life can not be an effective 
preacher of morality, though he plead like an angel of light. Nor 
can he ordinarily be effective for any cause. Charles Stuart Parnell 
lost his power as leader of the Irish people when his private life was 
laid bare. Quintillian says, "An orator is a good man skilled in 
speaking." "We might object to the adjective good, or, indeed to 
any sweeping statement, as certain successful orators come to mind ; 
but there is great wisdom in Emerson's saying, "If I should make 
the shortest list of the qualifications of an orator, I should begin 
with manliness, ' ' and in Beecher 's pithy dictum, ' ' Let no sneak try 
to be an orator!" This persuasive force of the man himself de- 
pends, of course, upon his native gifts and their development apart' 
from his training as a speaker. But the practice of public speaking, 
upon right lines, will prove an important factor in development. 

• A word should be added in regard to the attitude of the 
speaker toward his audience, — a word which some self-confident 
young men need. The humblest audience is to be treated with re- 
spect. Its individual members may be of greater worth and insight 
than the speaker supposes ; at any rate, in the aggregate they form 
a body entitled to respect. Their time has value. It is both per- 
suasive and just to maintain toward an audience such an attitude as 
one does toward an important person, — respectful without yielding 



self-respect. When Lincoln was asked to explain his success, he 
replied, ' ' I always assume that my audience is in many things wiser 
than I am, and I say the most sensible thing I can to them. ' ' 

To those who feel that persuasion is close to trickery, let me 
say it makes no difference whether one is on or off the platform. On 
or off, persuasion may be attempted by unmanly or unfair means. 
But no man is entitled to criticise a speaker for using persuasive 
skill unless in private intercourse he refuses to use any tact, unless 
he is quite as ready to refer to Jefferson Davis as a traitor in the 
South as in the North, to call the man from whom he is soliciting a 
charity subscription a skinflint or a grafter, or to address his hostess 
as an old woman. To those troubled over this matter, I commend 
the speeches of Paul as reported in the Acts. It has been pointed 
out that Paul said to Agrippa almost the only complimentary thing 
that could be said honestly. Note that later translators of the speech 
at Athens substitute for the "too superstitious" and "ignorantly" 
of the Authorized Version, "very religious" and "unknowing," 
making both better sense and better persuasion, and changing a 
cutting criticism into a statement of common ground. Note too 
Paul's saying "I am become all things to all men, that I may by 
some means save some. " Then remember what Paul suffered for his 
convictions ! Was he an unmanly trickster ? 

Nevertheless, it is true that an honest man will be on his guard, 
on the platform or off, lest he be drawn into the use of regrettable 
devices. I do not wish anywhere to suggest that a speaker should 
yield his convictions to his audience ; or that he should practice that 
half suppression which amounts to deception. But honesty does not 
demand that we speak all our mind or tell all the truth all the time. 
Even the oath to "tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but 
the truth," is not held to mean that a witness must tell all he knows 
regardless of its relevancy to the issue. Honesty does not require 
that we arouse a man's opposition on all subjects when we wish to 
persuade him in regard to one; that we antagonize his race pride 
when we only want him to vote for a cleaner city. Blundering- Dr. 
Burchard has not been considered a moral hero because he turned 
Catholic votes against Blaine in 1884, by declaring that the Demo- 
cratic party stood for ' ' Rum, Romanism and Rebellion. ' ' A young 
speaker while discussing the relations of employers and employees, 



went out of his way to sneer at church members. When criticised 
for giving unnecessary offense to many just employers, he replied 
with an air of rebuking candor, ' ' I say what I think ! ' ' Had his 
theme been the shortcomings of church members in regard to the 
labor problem, it would have been quite a different matter. It is 
often a speaker's duty to tell his audience unpalatable truth, and 
then he should speak fearlessly. But even then, if he is really eager 
to gain acceptance for his truth, he will not be heedless of how he 
approaches his audience. The man both honest and just will not fail 
to observe that, while there are times for words like clubs or the 
whip of small cords, there are more times for gentler methods. He 
will never be willing to confuse honesty with discourtesy, unfair- 
ness or egotism. 

The question of what motives one may rightly appeal to is often 
difficult. This is well discussed by Professor Baker in the reference 
given. May one properly appeal to the prejudices of one 's hearers ? 
It is very difficult to decide what beliefs are prejudices. It is well 
to observe that many of our best "reasons" for conduct do not rest 
upon reasoning at all, but upon sentiments which we owe to inheri- 
tance or environment ; as, the sense of justice or of honor. And 
certainly some prejudices are much better than others. A man may 
have a prejudice, an unreasoning predilection for the right course, 
as well as for the wrong. Suppose you are convinced that a certain 
religious creed is based, on superstition : will you, in seeking to rally 
the adherents of this creed to support a good cause, hesitate to point 
out that the interests of their church are involved? However we 
look at these questions, we are brought back to the truth that they 
are the same in public and in private speech. 

Since the introduction has most to do with establishing rela- 
tions between speaker and audience, it is of prime importance in the 
matter of persuasion. Consider the different treatments that may 
be needed as one has an eager, an indifferent, or a hostile or sus- 
picious audience. Suppose a northerner were to discuss the negro 
problem in South Carolina : what problems would arise ? Suppose 
a man of twenty-five had to discuss the Civil War before a Grand 
Army post ? Suppose a woman is arguing for woman 's suffrage be- 
fore an audience of men ? This is a question of peculiar difficulty, 
because the strongest considerations advanced on either side, spring 

87 



more from feeling than from the reasoning process. Again, suppose 
a man speaking for woman 's suffrage before the same audience ? The 
woman must escape the charge of being unwomanly and the man the 
charge of being womanish. The problems here suggested are by no 
means confined to introductions; they are only more acute at the 
beginning. Whatever means are employed, avoid the use of insin- 
cere flattery. 

Study the way Beecher handled a hostile audience in England 
in 1863. See Baker's Specimens of Argumentation; and read in 
connection with this what he has to say on the subject of persuasion 
in his lecture on Oratory and in his Yale Lectures on Preaching. 
Note especially how his advice on the subject, in the light of his 
magnificent fight, cannot possibly be taken as suggesting anything 
like unmanly fawning upon audiences, or trickery. 

Do not think that the unfriendly audience, undoubtedly the 
most interesting, is the speaker's greatest problem. The indifferent 
audience is by far the more usual and the more depressing problem „ 
The problem is to arouse and maintain interest. The suggestions 
already made on this head, and the standard suggestions to be 
found in the references given, should suffice to do all that can be 
done by book instruction. Experience and observation must do the 
rest. 

As a general statement, we may say that in order to persuade 
a man, we must first make him understand our proposition and con- 
vince him we are right. Think over various audiences and occa- 
sions and see if any exceptions are to be made to this statement. 

Consider the following statements and see of you can draw 
any suggestions from them for the speaker with reference to per- 
suasion : — 

An idea always has a motor element, however obscure. . . When- 
ever a definite idea is formed, there is a tendency toward action. This is 
most plainly seen in those ideas which suggest some particular move- 
ment. . . A motor idea, unless restrained, tends to go out immediately 
in definite action. Halleck's Psychology and Psychic Culture, p. 317. 

Movement is the natural immediate effect of the process of feeling, 
irrespective of what the quality of the feeling may be. It is so in reflex 
action, it is so in emotional expression, it is so in the voluntary life. 
James's Briefer Course, p. 427. 

What holds attention determines action. Idem, p. 448. [The accom- 
panying discussion shows that this means that if the idea of an action 

88 



keeps control of our attention exclusively, so that inhibiting ideas are shut 
out, we shall inevitably do the act. So all there is to willing, as James 
sees it, is attention to an idea, or "consent to the idea's undivided 
presence."] 

Much has been written in recent years on Suggestion and the 
Psychology of the Crowd, which is more or less applicable to 
audiences. These matters are discussed and hints worth noting 
made in Scott's Psychology of Public Speaking, pp. 149-184 



It is a rather strange fact that many students prepare speeches 
with little or no thought of plan, of the best ways of treating their 
subjects and of approaching their audiences. Some through sheer 
indifference prepare by simply writing till the word limit is 
reached. Having now in several chapters discussed methods of 
treating material and the purposes to which it should be devoted, 
and having given references that set forth other methods, I now 
wish to discuss, in a fragmentary way, the plan and some of the 
more important rhetorical qualities of a speech. 

It should be too apparent for discussion that a plan is needed ; 
but here some students revolt. They complain that a plan hampers 
freedom and makes unnecessary work. All this is due to miscon- 
ception. Of course, the easiest thing to do is to just write off the 
required number of words : but that is to let our pens think for us ; 
it is to follow the associational process of our thoughts, one thing 
suggesting another, rather than to direct the current of thought to 
a predetermined goal. Some are able to make a clear plan without 
putting it on paper; but if one can do this, one can also write it 
down. To write without outline is like building a house without a 
plan ; the parts are not likely to be well connected, the stairway 
may be overlooked and the chimney may cut off the second-floor 
hall. If one makes a clear outline, he knows just what he has. He 
sees where his analysis is weak and where material is lacking. He 
can see, better than in the written speech, what the possible ar- 
rangements are ; he can make sure of including all the necessary 
steps. Changes in order after writing are more difficult and likely 
to cause patch-work. 

Nor should an outline unduly hamper, or produce stiffness. 
Having a clear idea of what he wishes to do. the speaker is now 

89 



ready to write rapidly and gain the movement which rapid writing 
tends to give. And if in the process of writing, he finds his plan 
defective, he can still modify, or even throw away. Even that will 
not be to waste effort; for he will have gained in analysis and 
grasp. 

"A skeleton," says one, "is not a thing of beauty, but the body 
would lack its beauty without this same ugly skeleton." Speeches 
without outlines are likely to have the form of jellyfish. At any 
rate, there are some qualities better than ease. Orderly progress of 
thought is better, clearness is better, convincing analysis is better, 
unity is better ; and it is much better to sit down knowing you have 
said precisely what you meant, no more and no less. For the ex- 
temporaneous speaker a complete outline is usually the only salva- 
tion. Without it he will ramble, mark time, say unfortunate or 
inane things; and often he will have the humiliation of thinking, 
' ' There, I missed the very thing I most wished to say ! ' ' 

It is a mistaken notion that to make an outline increases labor ; 
that is, if one really wishes to do well. The time spent in clearing 
the ground will in the long run prove time saved. The objection is 
usually a counsel of laziness. 

It may not be a bad thing at times to write out one's ideas, in 
the early stages of preparation, without much regard for form or 
order. Some think best this way. If only one is sure to throw the 
stuff away ! It may be better for speakers to talk out their vague 
ideas to others or to themselves; then there will be less temptation 
to use the crude stuff. It may also aid in getting into a speaker-like 
frame of mind. 

The methods of making briefs preparatory to argumentative 
speeches have been thoroughly worked out in several excellent texts. 
The two referred to above are, on the whole, the most satisfactory. 
A simpler but less thorough text is Perry's Argumentation. All 
these contain abundant illustrative material. There is probably no 
work that will develop a beginner faster as speaker and thinker than 
debating. One's opponent provides such an immediate necessity of 
being clear, convincing and persuasive that one is likely to gather 
ample material and to present it with directness and force, while 
formalism, empt} T talk and posing are banished. There are few 
worse practices, however, than arguing without knowledge, depend- 

90 



ing upon smartness and invention. The methods set forth in good 
texts furnish high-class training ; and these methods are as valuable 
for argument in court, legislature, or in everyday business, as in 
college debating. 

In all outlines, the most careful attention should be given to 
correlation and subordination. See to it first that your main head- 
ings are of the same rank and bear the same relation to the central 
thought. A handy test of correlation is to note whether headings in 
coordinate positions can be properly joined by connectives such 
as and, but, yet, also, again; or do they demand subordinating 
words, such as for, since, if, in order that. If possible, let the main 
headings in their wording show their relation to the central idea and 
to each other. Then make sure the sub-heads are really subordinate 
to the headings under which they stand. Many outlines I receive 
disregard these simple directions. See that the sub-heads of a given 
main head are themselves coordinates. Use a regular system of 
numerals such as you find in the texts. 

This work cannot be done without clear analysis ; and when it 
is done it is prima facie evidence of analysis. It may, however, be 
superficial, if left in general terms. Carry your system far enough 
to reach something definite. Do not use catchwords ; make only 
complete sentences. In nine cases out of ten, questions concerning 
an outline of the catchword style will reveal that its maker has but 
vague ideas and is trusting to the "inspiration of the moment." 
But such inspiration helps those who first help themselves. 

It is well to put at the top of an outline a single crisp sentence 
summarizing the speech. This puts the thought in a form easy to 
carry in mind, and also tests your speech for clearness, simplicity 
and unity. It is also good practice, especially if you are to speak 
extempore, to write at the beginning of your outline your opening 
sentence, and at the end of your concluding sentence. These are 
the critical points, especially the end. Many a speaker goes ramb- 
ling on for lack of a good conclusion ; or, as some one has put it, for 
the lack of good "terminal facilities." 

Careful attention to the outline will go far toward giving your 
speech the necessary quality of coherence. The relation and use of 
each part to the whole shou'd be evident. Special attention to 
transition should be given. Remember that the hearer, as compared 

91 



with the reader, has but a limited opportunity to get your meaning, 
and he is often at a loss to know what a speaker is ' ' driving at. ' ' 
Study of speeches of good style, like those of Wendell Phillips, will 
reveal much use of the ' ' connective tissue of language, ' ' in the way 
of echoes, parallel constructions, and the free use of connectives, 
instead of the abrupt, crackling sentences so much affected in col- 
lege orations. 

A helpful and readable treatment of coherence as well as of the 
other qualities of style, will be found in Wendell's English Compo- 
sition. To that text and others, I must leave the discussion of most 
such matters. I wish, however, to emphasize a few points of special 
importance to speech-makers. 

Since it is the business of a speaker, first, to hold attention and, 
secondly, to make an impression upon the minds and hearts of his 
hearers, the most important rhetorical quality of a speech is force. 
To be forceful, at least with intelligent men, you must first be clear. 
That you may be both clear and forceful, it is important that your 
address have unity. Perhaps this is the point which needs most 
attention. The speaker is constantly tempted to try to impress 
many ideas in one speech ; but he is sure to fail. He has done well 
if he has put plainly and forcibly one thought. The greater part of 
his speech his hearers will inevitably forget ; he has succeeded if they 
remember his main thought. 

Many brilliant thoughts and expressions must be ruthlessly 
sacrificed, and all must be subordinated to the main purpose. The 
need for outline is seen here, as a means of insuring proper sub- 
ordination. While there should be but one main point, there are 
subsidiary points which go to support and amplify this. If the 
coherence is poor, if the relation of part to part is obscure, the 
speaker may suffer the humiliation of having his audience seize upon 
the' incidental and ignore his principal thought. Unity demands 
both elimination and subordination. Every word, phrase and para- 
graph should further the main purpose. 

Do not think that because your speech is all about one topic it 
is therefore unified. There may be a dozen different aspects sug- 
gested and complete distraction. Does the speech produce one 
clear-cut impression? Will a member of your audience, if asked 
tomorrow, be able to state fairly the point you labored to make? 

92 



Or will he say, "Oh, Brown said something or other about" — what- 
ever you discussed. 

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address is perfect in its unity. He had 
a threefold duty to perform : to pay respect to the occasion, to honor 
the dead and to inspire the living. He accomplished all this with 
the theme, Popular government must be preserved to the world. 
Our fathers established a free government ; this war is testing the 
durability of such government; we have met to honor those who 
have died that it may endure ; we cannot honor them, but we can 
catch inspiration from them and solemnly resolve that free govern- 
ment shall endure. Almost every sentence echoes or amplifies the 
central thought ; and through it all runs the high note of an heroic 
struggle for humanity. 

A speaker should impress upon himself that his audience has 
but limited power of attention. He can utilize it or waste it. All 
that goes to mere effort to understand his obscure phrases, or to fol- 
low his ramblings, is wasted. And he should note the ever present 
danger of sending his hearers off on tangents by distracting sug- 
gestions. He will do well to impress upon himself the need of 
economy of attention by reading the first paragraphs of Spencer's 
Philosophy of Style. 

A speech should be like a river which grows deeper and broader 
in its course, as it receives the contributions of its tributaries, 
carrying all along together in unity. But too many speeches are 
like a river which flows into a desert, throwing off one streamlet 
here and another there, all to be lost in the sands. 

Both Genung and Hart say that unity and simplicity are the 
prime requisites of oratorical style. Simplicity there must be in 
topic, in structure of sentences and in plan. Involved style is sure 
to exhaust the attention. It is especially important that the theme 
be narrowed so that it can be handled in the time at the speaker's 
disposal. Young speakers constantly try to make short speeches on 
such subjects as Abraham Lincoln, Immigration, Woman's Suffrage. 
They can do no more than give a few vague general notions ; or if 
they deal in facts, a dry chronological, statistical, or other bare 
recital. 

It is nearly always best to speak from a definite point of view. 
Outside of lectures, one rarely speaks to give mere instruction, mere 

93 



accurate description or exposition. We usually speak to give a 
definite impression. Speeches should ordinarily be dynamic. The 
young speaker should therefore seek, after digesting his material, 
for a definite point of view. He may speak, and succeed in a short 
speech, upon Lincoln as a lawyer, Immigration and the labor mar- 
ket, Will voting interfere with woman 's home duties. This limiting 
of the field and definiteness of point of view help much in attaining 
the desirable unity of impression. 

To illustrate the possibilities, let us take a familiar subject and 
note a few of the aspects which might be considered : The negro in 
Africa, which -in turn might be divided into the effect of tropical 
climate upon the race, the different tribes of negroes, civilization of 
the negro when brought to America, and other topics which a little 
study would bring out; the obligations we assumed toward the 
negro; his training in slavery, industrial, educational, or normal; 
his fitness for freedom; for citizenship; the "carpet-bag regime"; 
the attitude of northern whites ; of southern whites ; Ku Klux Klan 
methods; "grandfather clauses"; "Jim Crow cars"; negro ad- 
vance in education ; in property ; in morals ; Booker T. Washington, 
etc., etc. Any one of these topics, with requisite skill and good ma- 
terial, could be used for a good speech, and a speech of practical 
bearing and persuasive appeal; yet the beginner usually wishes to 
speak on The Negro Problem. When asked what he has in mind, he 
frequently replies, "I think I could talk five minutes on that" ! 

I now wish to illustrate some of the foregoing suggestions with 
the outline of a simple subject. As it first came to me from a stu- 
dent entirely unskilled in speech-making, it was of the Who-Which- 
What-Wh.ere order. 

The George Junior Republic. 
What it is. 
Where it is. 
How it is run. 

This is nearly useless. It does not insure any real analysis. 
There may, of course, be back of it a well-thought out speech ; but 
the chances are against it. It does not give the instructor much 
clue for helpful criticism ; and usually he finds it impossible to draw 
from the student any clear explanation of what he has in mind. The 
chances are he does not know. No introduction or conclusion is 

94 






indicated, and no point of view. "Perhaps it may tnrn out a song; 
perhaps turn out a sermon. ' ' After some criticism and some further 
study of the subject, the outline reappeared in about this form : 

I. The George Junior Republic, a significant institution. One of the best 

philanthropic institutions of the age. 

II. "Nothing without labor." 

1. Vagrancy act. 

2. Trades. 

III. Form of government. 

1. Like U. S. 

2. Legislatures, judges, police, etc. 

IV. Good qualities developed. 

1. Equality. 

2. Earnestness and honesty. 

V. The Republic makes a lasting impression. 

It is evident that the speaker is progressing ; he has more ideas 
and some definite impressions. But we do not yet know what the 
leading thought is ; nor are we sure that he has any clear idea of his 
subject as a whole. There is no consistent point of view, no unity ; 
there is a lack of statements; the correlation is imperfect, and the 
main heads show little relation. In I. the sub-head is not clearly 
subordinate to the main heading. In II. we can guess at the rela- 
tions. In III., 2 seems properly to be a sub-head rather than a co- 
ordinate of 1. In IV. equality is not a quality and not in the same 
category as earnestness and honesty. No introduction or conclusion 
is marked as such ; but assuming that I. is introduction it does not 
show any clear relation to what follows, and V. does not seem to be 
an outgrowth of what precedes. 

Another trial produced the following : 

Introduction. 
The George Junior Republic is not a charity institution. 

Discussion. 

I. "Nothing without labor." 

(Sub-heads as before.) 

II. Forms of government. 

(Same as before.) 

III. The Republic develops 

1. Democracy. 

2. Races and sexes. 

95 



Conclusion. 
Training at the Republic is training in citizenship. 
The faults are still glaring enough ; yet we do catch the develop- 
ment of some progress toward a real conclusion. With a real grasp 
of what was needed, the next stage might have been this : 

Introduction. 
The George Junior Republic is not a charity institution. 
It is an institution for training in citizenship. 

Discussion. 

I. The Republic trains for citizenship industrially. 

1. Each citizen is impressed with the duty of self-support. 

a. The motto and policy of the Republic is, "Nothing without 
labor." 

2. Each learns how to support himself, 
a. Each must learn a trade. 

II. The Republic trains for the civil duties of citizenship. 

1. It is governed by laws made and executed by its citizens. 

2. Its forms of government are similar to those of the greater 

Republic. 

3. Citizens learn by experience the need of due protection to person 

and property. 

4. They learn the evils arising from inefficient or corrupt govern- 

ment. 

Conclusion. 
Citizens of the Junior Republic are trained for citizenship by actual 
experience. 



AVc j are discussing the preparation of an original speech. What 
is an original speech? No very definite answer can be given; but 
one can arrive at a working conception. Baker, in the valuable in- 
troduction to his Forms of Public Address, speaks of "the reaction 
of an individual mind on the material." That may serve as a defi- 
nition of originality. Essenwein, in How to Attract and Hold an 
Audience (p. 51), says in a chapter, all of which is worth reading: 

How does my mind work when it receives a new truth? 

Does it enjoy the truth, and then give it out again unaltered, exactly 
or substantially in the same words? That is quotation, if credit is given 
to the author; otherwise it is literary theft. 

96 



Does my mind feel stimulated, upon receiving truth, to produce other 
thoughts, and yet utter the received thought without change? That is 
expansion. 

Does m} r mind not only receive a stimulus from new truth, but also 
assimilate it, transform, clarify, and amplify it, so that in uttering that 
truth I utter it stamped with my own image and superscription? That is 
originality. 

. . . An original thought is a new birth, — the fruit of a union of 
truth from without and of thought from within. 

Another good reference is Baker's Argumentation, p. 386-8. 

We may say negatively that a student who sits down to make an 
abstract of a chapter or an article, taking out topic sentences and 
changing a few words, is not doing original work. Nor is he though 
he does not use a single sentence from his author, so long as he 
merely adopts the latter 's ideas and standpoint. It is a little more 
hopeful when he reads two authorities, compares them and writes a 
speech based upon both. But we can not establish any rule based 
on the amount of reading. It is the thinking, assimilating and the 
"reaction" that count. It is pretty safe to say that if a student will 
follow the directions of Chapter III. he will be honestly original. 
It is not necessary, of course, that his ideas be absolutely new ; not 
even new to him. It is enough that he has really reacted to the ideas 
and experiences of others. It is a high degree of originality when 
he comes to a clear realization of a truth as a result of life experi- 
ence, even though that truth was in his first copybook. The "burnt 
child" has an original idea when he first learns by experience that 
it is really true that fire burns. I recall a student who came in with 
a burning desire to write on Compensation, a thought which had 
come as a result of experience and which he supposed really new. 
It was honestly original, although as old as the first thinker. 

There is a moral aspect to this question. I fail to find any 
reason for setting up one standard of morality for men in private 
and another for men on the platform. The most that can be said 
is that it makes a difference what the audience understands in re- 
gard to the speaker's claim to originality: there may be times when 
the speaker is known to be but a mouthpiece. A speaker should be 
quick to acknowledge his indebtedness. He will not lose by so doing ; 
and, to take the low ground of expediency, he is liable to lose if he 
does not. There is usually some one in the audience to detect a 
fraud. I remember hearing a man of some distinction, in an ad- 

97 



dress to arouse martial spirit at the beginning of the Spanish War, 
declaim eloquently, without acknowledgement, large sections from 
Wendell Phillips. There were at least two in the audience who 
could "give him away." A visiting preacher in an Ithaca pulpit 
assumed that no one read printed sermons; but one little woman 
did, and she forced him to an humiliating confession. It is, of 
course, impossible to say exactly what should be acknowledged and 
what need not ; but the wise and honest man will keep away from 
the border line. 



There are enough matters suggested in this "chapter of frag- 
ments" to fill a book, were they properly developed; and many 
other points might be made. But if I have succeeded in leading the 
reader to study and think for himself, and above all to realize that 
speech-making is not to be entered upon haphazard, my purpose is 
accomplished. 

I wish to name some other good references. There are almost 
innumerable books on this general subject. The speeches of indi- 
vidual orators, as distinguished from the collections named below, 
will be found by reference to library catalogs. All the books men- 
tioned in this chapter, with many others, are to be found in the Cor- 
nell University Library. I do not, of course, mean to indorse all 
that is found in the books named; for many of the books referred 
to are based upon ideas radically opposed to my own. But each 
contains something of value. 

The Art of Debate. Raymond Alden. The work of a skillful de- 
bater. 
Modern American Oratory. R. C. Ringwalt. An introduction on 

the theory of oratory and seven representative orations. 
The Occasional Address. Lorenzo Sears. 
Extempore Speaking. E. D. Shurter. 
Extempore Speaking. Bautain. Highly commended by Andrew D. 

White. 
Rhetoric and Oratory. The lectures of John Quincy Adams as Pro- 
fessor of Rhetoric and Oratory in Harvard College. Interest- 
ing as a review of the classic authors, Aristotle, Cicero, Quin- 
tilian, and others, and as containing the views of a great orator. 

98 



On Oratory and Orators. Cicero. 

Oratory; its Requirements and its Rewards. John P. Altgeld. 

Hints on Writing and Speech-Making. T. W. Higginson. 

Notes on Speech-Making . Brander Matthews. The last two are 
especially good on after-dinner speaking. 

Oratory and Orators. William Mathews. 

Before an Audience. Nathan Sheppard. 

Public Speaking and Debate. G. J. Holyoake. The last two are 
the works of veteran debaters and agitators. 

Oratory and Some Famous Orators I Have Heard. Two articles by 
the late Senator George F. Hoar, in Scribners' Magazine for 
June and July, 1901. 
Among the many collections of speeches are : 

Select British Eloquence. C. J. Goodrich. 

Representative British Orations. Charles K. Adams. 

Reed's Modern Eloquence. Speeches of all kinds classified. Articles 
on speech-making by distinguished men, of which the most use- 
ful is that by Senator Beveridge. 

World's Best Orations. Justice Brewer of the Supreme Court, 
Editor-in-Chief. 

World's Famous Orations. William J. Bryan, Editor-in-Chief. 

Great Speeches by Great Lawyers. W. L. Snyder. 

Legal Masterpieces. Van Vechten Veeder. 

Great Speeches and Orations of Daniel Webster. Contains E. P. 
Whipple 's great essay, ' ' Webster as a master of English Style. ' ' 

Eloquent Sons of the South. Edited by John Temple Graves, Clark 
Howell and Walter Williams. 

American Orations. Edited by Alexander Johnston, and re-edited 
by J. A. Woodburn. 

Select Orations Illustrating American History. Edited by S. B. 
Harding, with a good introduction on oratorical structure and 
style by J. M. Clapp. Contains part of the Lincoln-Douglass 
debates and forms an excellent basis for the study of both ora- 
tory and history. 

The Lincoln-Douglass Debates. A. L. Bouton. 

The Speech for Special Occasions. Knapp and French. Has a 
helpful essay (barring the remarks on delivery) on the prepara- 
tion of an occasional address. 

99 



CHAPTER VII. 

GESTURE. 

The term gesture is broad enough to cover every action and 
posture expressive of thought or feeling. The word gesture sug- 
gests action and we usually think of gesture as movement, especially 
of hands and arms ; but good usage will justify the above state- 
ment. We cannot, furthermore, limit ourselves to actions which 
are " intended to express an idea or a passion;" for we are con- 
cerned with all expression, whether intentional or not. 

But taking gesture in the more usual sense of action intended 
to express ideas and feelings, Why should the speaker gesture? 

First, gesture is an important means of expression. A speaker 
who is full of his subject and has a great deal to express will feel 
the need of every means of expressing himself. Any man who 
eagerly desire? to communicate his ideas and feelings, knows the 
inadequacy of language. This is not to imply that gesture is the 
resource only of those exceedingly serious over a great message ; 
any one eager to convey an impression, though it be of the lightest 
nature, feels the need of action. 

We find too that, although its range is more limited, gesture 
is often a quicker, plainer and stronger means of expression than 
spoken words, for its appeal is to the eye. A motion toward the 
'door, a shrug, a lifted eyebrow, — what words can equal these ges- 
tures? Gesture, within its limitations, is an unmistakable lan- 
guage, and is understood by men of all races and tongues. Even 
a dog understands some gestures. Gesture is our most instinctive 
language; or, at least, it goes back to the beginning of all communi- 
cation when the race, still lacking articulate speech, could express 
only through the tones of inarticulate sounds and through move- 
ments. And because it is so deeply imbedded in our primitive 
reactions, all men express themselves by gesture and all men under- 
stand gesture. 

Gesture is particularly adapted to the expression of feeling. 
The degree of the speaker's earnestness, his attitude toward the 

100 



idea presented, whether he accounts it trivial or important, accept- 
able or objectionable, pleasing or disgusting, uplifting or debasing, 
whether he is eager or conservative, mocking or serious, — all these 
and many other attitudes and feelings the speaker expresses by 
posture and action. Gesture is used also, but less frequently, to 
express cold fact and ideas apart from feeling; as, that the statue 
was so high, or that there are two opposing principles. Its use 
for this purpose is obviously limited. In narration and description 
action is much used ; but usually in these there is a strong emotional 
coloring, and the tendency to gesture is always greater as the feel- 
ing grows stronger. Words have developed along with ideas and, 
generally speaking, are the clearest expression of them. Emotions 
are more primitive than ideas. Primitive man had little to express 
besides his likes and his dislikes, his joy and his sorrow, his fear 
and his triumph. 

Of course, gesture developed into a sign language of which 
much remains to serve the speaker. It is especially used in narra- 
tion and description. But the use of pantomimic gesture is limited 
in scope. Within its limits it is most helpful, but when one gets 
outside these limits it soon becomes absurd. Words are plainly 
superior to motions, except for the expression of the feelings. 

Darwin and others have traced the origin of our familiar ges- 
tures, in many instances, to "serviceable associated habits" 
developed by our early ancestors. Thus "the snarl or sneer, the 
one-sided uncovering of the upper teeth, is accounted for by Dar- 
win as a survival from the time when our ancestors had large 
canines, and unfleshed them (as dogs do now) for attack." 
(James's Briefer Course, p. 388.) Very likely some of the 
attempted explanations of particular actions are far-fetched; but 
the general thought is suggestive. We can readily understand how 
the natural expression of aggressive determination is a head 
thrown back, a jaw set and protruding, and clenched fists. 

Another principle . . . may be called the principle of reacting 
similarly to analogous-feeling stimuli. ... As soon as any experience 
arises which has an affinity with the feeling of sweet, or sour, or bitter, 
the same movements are executed which would result from the taste in 
point. . . . Disgust is an incipient . . . retching, limiting its ex- 
pression often to the grimace of lips and nose; satisfaction goes with a 
sucking smile, or tasting motion of the lips. The ordinary gesture of 

101 



negation — among us, moving the head about its axis from side to side — is 
a reaction originally used by babies to keep disagreeables from getting 
into their mouth, and may be observed in perfection in any nursery. 
idem, p. 389. 

Primitive language was largely a gesture-language. Since the spoken 
words gave only a partial account of the event described, they were eked 
out by movements of hand or feature. And foremost among these move- 
ments were the movements that correspond to the metaphor. The success- 
ful hunter actually licked his lips, and seemed to suck a sweet morsel; 
the unsuccessful drew his lips sideways, as if he were trying to taste as 
little as possible of his sour draught. 

Now we begin to see where the argument is taking us. Certain 
processes in the emotion . . . suggest a metaphor, by simultaneous 
association; and the metaphor brings a movement with it. As language 
develops, the metaphor is lost: it is no longer necessary. But the move- 
ment persists. When the emotion comes, the movement comes with it. 
The movement survives, partly because of its intrinsic fitness to communi- 
cate to others a knowledge of our emotion, and partly because gesture can- 
not change as language can. Titchener's Primer, p. 148. 

We have many gestures that exhibit this metaphorical char- 
acter ; as, the wide-flung hands expressive of welcome or liberality, 
the tossing motion expressive of carelessness, the palm thrust for- 
ward, expressive of repelling, the high raised hand expressive in 
various positions of nobility, aspiration, or reverence. 

I have gone so far in considering the origin of expressive 
action, not only to show how broad and universal is its appeal, but 
also to prepare the way for the second and chief reason for ges- 
turing, and that is 

The speaker needs gesture to free him from restraint and bring 
him into a normal condition on the platform. More and more this 
reason impresses me as a teacher. Students never find themselves 
as speakers, never escape the bonds of restraint, never become 
really direct and communicative, until they gesture. It is unnatural 
not to gesture in any wide-awake discourse. Any real speaker 
would be in distress if compelled to restrain gesture. We begin to 
use gesture in earliest infancy. Children gesture a great deal. It 
is true that they gesture less as they grow older. This is partly due 
to constant checking. Their gestures knock over bric-a-brac, and 
' ' don 't, don 't ! " is heard from morn till night. Habits of restraint 
are formed. We learn that it is not best to express every thought 
and feeling that comes. But we never cease to use gesture ; not even 

102 






the more noticeable motions of hands and arms. It is amusing to> 
be told by students that they do not gesture in conversation. Con- 
tradict them and force them to strong assertion and they never 
fail to make a vigorous movement to enforce their denial. Recently 
a student repeated this gesture three times in succession, though 
consciously trying to restrain the action and laughing at himself 
for his absurdity. Every man makes innumerable less striking 
movements, and these increase as he warms up in his talk. 

And this brings us to a third reason for gesturing, which is 
only a corollary of the second, — that we are hound to gesture 
whether we will or no; if not well, then ill. This is true if we really 
speak with any force and effect, If we are alive to our work, the 
impulse to action will be present and will show itself somehow ; in 
uneasy twitchings, starts of the hands, restless shifting of feet and 
position, fumbling with clothing. Repression will show itself in 
rigidity. All this may itself be called gesture; for all appeals to 
the eyes of the audience, and seems to cry aloud, "See how 
repressed, how nervous, how awkward I am ! " It is much better 
to give rein to the natural impulse and use the hands to emphasize 
thought than to examine the edge of one 's coat or to hitch up one 's 
trousers. True, the hands may be stuck in one's pockets or held in 
leash at the back; but these are not attitudes always becoming to 
young speakers, to say nothing of the loss of expression. Besides, 
hands and arms are only one part of gesture. 

We have been assuming a speaker alive to his task, really try- 
ing to express. But it is doubtful if a speaker can remain in that 
condition long, if he repress gesture. Gripping one's chair is a 
familiar device for keeping cool. Repression of feeling is often the 
death of feeling ; gestural expression will heighten or even produce 
the appropriate feeling. This we may draw from the chapter on 
feeling. Note this from a writer not committed to the James - 
Lange theory of emotion: 

When Deerslayer caught the tomahawk hurled at him, 'his hand was 
raised above and behind his own head, and in the very attitude necessary 
to return the attack. It is not certain' — notice this sentence — 'whether the 
circumstance of finding himself in this menacing posture and armed 
tempted the young man to retaliate, or whether sudden resentment over- 
came his forbearance and prudence.' Cooper has realized the undoubted 
fact that, given the attitude, the emotion might come of itself. Titchener's 
Primer, p. 146. 

103 



Try this: Assert to a friend, real if possible, imaginary if 
not, some simple fact, just saying, This thing is so. Say it again 
with an emphatic stroke of the hand. Say it again, with much 
abandon, banging your desk vigorously with the doubled fist. 

From what has been said it should be clear that gesture should 
spring from impulse, and not be mere mechanical motions made by 
rule or imitation. It should be real expression, — outward response 
to inner impulse. As we learned in the preceding chapter, all 
ideas, and particularly all feelings, are motor. If we center our 
attention upon the ideas of our speech and if we are in the spirit 
of what we are saying, we shall have impulse to action. And if 
our attention centers, as it should, upon major points, our gesture 
impulses will be strongest at those points ; and the anxious question 
of the beginner, ' ' Where shall I gesture ? ' ' will be answered. Ges- 
ture being in its nature emphatic, since it is an added means of 
expression, should mark central thoughts, not incidental or sub- 
ordinate points. 

If we were perfectly normal beings, this might be almost 
enough to say on the subject. But we are not normal. There is 
habitual restraint and repression. We have habits of making a few, 
limited movements; and we say others do not "feel natural." We 
are restrained by self-consciousness. We may be stiff and awkward 
off the platform, and more so on the platform. Hence some train- 
ing becomes necessary, in order that the impulse to gesture may 
have a fair chance ; and later it may be desirable, after freedom has 
been gained, to somewhat prune the natural action. Gesture train- 
ing should not be hurried; and the first stage should be limited 
to gaining freedom and responsiveness to the impulses. 

As a first step, just try to stop restraining yourself. Don't 
stick your hands in your pockets or behind your back ; but let them 
hang freely at your side. To be free requires that there be no 
nervous clutching, no doubling up, no fussing with clothing, no 
rigid holding at the sides; they should swing as loosely as when 
you are walking. Then speak something of a vigorous character, 
your own ideas, extemporaneous or memorized, or a bit from a 
selection; let yourself go. try hard to express the idea to your 
imaginary audience. If you can get away from self-consciousness, 
something will happen in the way of gesture. This something may 

104 






consist of very queer motions. Never mind; encourage them, and 
go on talking in an exaggerated way. If nothing comes of it, lift 
your hand up with a free movement from the shoulder and speak 
a vigorous paragraph without taking it down. It will be strange 
indeed if your hand does not do something. Do not try to make 
it do anything in particular. Trust your muscles ; they know more 
about gesture than you do ! 

Gesture is often checked by the restrained position in which 
one stands. It is important to stand in good poise. To be poised 
is to stand easily erect, without limpness or slouchiness and without 
waste of muscular effort. The chin is in, the chest active, up, alive 
(whatever term you please), the hips neither thrust forward nor 
backward, the weight borne directly over the hips and all resting 
on the balls of the feet. The weight may be borne on both feet or 
on either foot ; but there must be no sagging in either hip. The 
feet should not ordinarily be held together, or on a line, nor yet 
far apart. In this position it is possible to transfer weight from 
one foot to the other without effort ; hence one is free to step or 
turn easily in either direction, without "walking over one's self." 
And this freedom is of first-class importance to good action. 

Gesture is much more than movements of hands and arms; 
the simplest gesture affects the whole body, and one of the chief 
causes of awkwardness, stiffness and the "put-on" effect, is failure 
of the body to yield so as to produce harmonious action. More- 
over, unless the body is free to turn, if the feet are fastened to 
the floor, the speaker as he turns to various parts of his audience, 
will get into twisted attitudes, which are not only awkward but give 
him a feeling of restraint. There is a constant need of adjust- 
ment by changing the position of the feet and shifting weight. 
These movements are usually very slight and are unconscious when 
one is poised. They are only the natural movements which belong 
to good bearing off the platform. Without them a speaker is likely 
to fall into the swing of a torsion pendulum ; or if he does not turn 
his body at all, his head will move with the grace of an advertising 
automaton in a show window. 

The chest is the point of greatest importance to poise and 
free action. One should feel it as the center of energy. This gives 
a feeling of buoyancy and easy strength which, is most helpful to 

105 



the gesture impulse. One is not likely to feel like gesture when in 
a sagging or awkward position. 

Certain exercises are helpful in gaining poise. First, sit in an 
armless chair of fair height, without touching the back, and hold 
the chest well up, without straining. Now sway gently back and 
forth and from side to side, until you find a position in which you 
seem to remain erect with the slightest effort. This may take re- 
peated trials. 

Then rise to your feet, trying to keep the same feeling of ease 
and buoyancy. Raise your arms to a horizontal position and 
teeter gently on your toes. Try to get something of that feeling 
of swaying lightness one has when up to the armpits in water. 

Standing with weight on one foot, put the free foot in front 
of the other and then sway the weight forward till it rests on the 
ball of the front foot. Then back on the other heel. Put free foot 
out at side and swing, not lift, the weight on to that. Put foot 
now free forward and repeat several times. Keep chest well up and 
try for the feeling of poise. 

But preceding these exercises it is often best to go through 
relaxing exercises. For those, and other exercises, in order to save 
space and to avoid doing over what has been well done, I shall 
refer to Fulton and Trueblood's Practical Elocution, pp. 351-361. 
Just at this stage let other parts of their discussion alone. 

Let there be no misunderstanding about the use of exercises. 
They are not gestures ; they are only preparatory to gestures. They 
may be, and usually are, very silly movements, considered as ends in 
themselves; but so are the exercises which musicians or athletes go 
through in preparation. No student should despise these exercises; 
all should practice them persistently. It cannot be expected that 
a little practice will overcome the habits of a lifetime. Each stu- 
dent will sopn find which exercises best fit his needs and will be able 
to invent other exercises for himself. 

The student should keep in mind in their use that he is not 
learning set actions, but is seeking ease, freedom and responsive- 
ness; that, negatively, he is trying to throw off restraint, stiffness 
and set habits. Many a speaker gets into a habit of making one or 
two motions monotonously. These cease to have any meaning, 
when the same action is used to express disgust and approval, indif- 

106 



ference and enthusiasm, etc. The student should banish from 
his mind the belief, if he has it, that what he wants is a set of 
gestures, one ready for each occasion, like a handy set of carpen- 
ter's tools. Expression is infinitely varied, and what is wanted is 
ability to respond to all kinds of impulses. It is well to practice a 
great variety of movements, so that one's museles become accus- 
tomed to all positions; for when one gets a habit of making only 
certain movements he feels "unnatural" with others. The result 
is that in speaking, when he is intent upon his ideas and is largely 
at the mercy of his habits, he will make only the few movements 
which are habitual. 

We will now assume that the student of gesture has had his 
first experience and to some degree gotten over his self-conscious- 
ness, so that he can make a movement without stopping his mental 
processes ; that he has gained some poise and responsiveness. This 
may take him some weeks. We may now proceed to more definite 
work which would not have been safe at first. 

First, you may question yourself a bit: Do your gestures 
express something? Does your hand feel it is talking to the audi- 
ence? Does it seem to say, Note this point in particular; or, This 
is of little account ; or, This is displeasing ; or, This is fundamental ; 
This is noble, inspiring ■ Put this idea from you ? These and many 
other things your action can say and you should begin to feel it 
is speaking. 

Try now to express shades of meaning. Say with your hands : 
This is a fact. This is a fact, but I am indifferent to it. This is a 
fact ; make what you can of it. This is a fact and you must accept 
it. Work in all sorts of moods and mental attitudes. You can 
easily gather a collection of varied sentences. Or you can find them 
in numerous texts. (See end of this chapter.) 

Turn to the selection at p. 41. Try to express the subtle differ- 
ence between taking the words "a man may vote regularly," as 
expressing a contempt for voting, or as asserting that even regular 
voting is not enough. Try to express with your hand the idea 
that your hearers are all familiar with the Pharisee story. At line 
11 try to express the underlying, Don 't-you-see-how-it- works. In 
lines 44-49 try to suggest, first the indifference, then the snobbish 
aloofness, then the positive but secret determination ; and then in 

107 



the lines which follow, drive home the sweeping denunciation. 
These are but a few of the suggestions that might be made for this 
selection. Of course, the gestures most used are those of plain 
emphasis; but the habit of making these only is limiting. It is the 
subtler things which action can say better than words. 

Keep on at the effort to express one idea or feeling till you 
conquer it. Depend upon vivid conception, rather than planning 
particular movements. Get before a big mirror and learn from 
1 i the only honest man. ' ' Do not be afraid of the sneer at the 
looking-glass orator; what might be absurd in an experienced 
speaker is not necessarily so in a beginner. Besides, I am not 
asking you to practice the gestures of a speech you are to deliver. 
At first your problem was to do something, to throw off restraint. 
Now you must become acquainted with yourself and see what you 
are doing. Self-consciousness is bad, but it is best to settle some 
things once for all, rather than to carry indefinitely an uneasy con- 
sciousness of awkwardness and mannerism. All the time you 
should keep up practice for freedom of action. This, with a de- 
veloped feeling that you are talking through your gesture and a 
knowledge that your gestures are not noticeable as gestures because 
of stiffness or weakness or superfluous movements, will soon bring 
you out of self-consciousness. It is generally impossible to improve 
in any respect without an unpleasant stage of self-consciousness. 

Some rather fanciful gestures may be useful in training your 
muscles. Follow with eye and hand the flight of a bird which darts 
about in a large auditorium and at last escapes through an open 
window. Follow in the same way the course of a troop of cavalry 
which is charging over broken ground, now out of sight, now 
reappearing, and now dashing against the enemy. Count fifty, let- 
ting every fifth numeral stand in your mind for a distinct idea 
which you try to express by gesture. 

Speak the whole of the first paragraph of "Who is to Blame," 
keeping at least one hand up all the time. This is only as an exer- 
cise, of course ; such a direction for real speaking would be inde- 
fensible. Still you should have the paragraph thoroughly at com- 
mand and speak it with as much meaning as you can. 

Note that the hand though sustained need not be making 
motions all the time ; but it should not be limp. At the side the 

108 



hand should be free from all impulses ; but when up it should be 
ready for action. After the stroke of a gesture the hand often 
remains at rest holding attention to the thought presented, until at 
the end of the pause the next idea is taken up. This will be true 
generally where the thought is positive or deliberative. But where 
one does not wish to hold attention to the idea ; as where it is waved 
aside as unimportant, there is no appreciable rest. When the ges- 
ture is finished in any case, the hand should drop or pass into the 
preparation for a new gesture without attracting further attention. 

Guard in particular against a series of stiff- arm jabs at the 
same point. Where a gesture is sustained through a series of closely 
related ideas, it is usually better to turn to different parts of the 
audience. Sometimes the arm alone may move to another position ; 
sometimes the body. The changed angle of arm and body seems 
to be a relief, and particularly the changed direction of the eyes. 
It is convenient to speak mostly of the hand, but as a matter of 
fact the eyes of the audience focus upon the speaker's eyes; they 
rarely rest upon the speaker's hands, if these perform properly. 

Try these exercises : Stand facing left with right arm extended 
to the left, turn to right letting the arm turn with the body. Again, 
same position; swing arm alone to right. Stand facing right with 
right arm extended right ; turn to left leaving arm unmoved. 
Stand facing left with both arms extended left ; turn to right leav- 
ing left arm unmoved and letting right arm swing with body. Put 
in no strokes with hands at all, but let them freely open. Note the 
large sweeping character of these movements. Turn the last into 
a real gesture with the words: "My friends, we must all face this 
problem together." Be sure to let your eyes sweep over the whole 
of your imaginary audience. 

Here are a few more questions by means of which you can 
criticise yourself: Do your arms swing from the shoulder? Are 
your elbows free from your sides ? Does every joint from shoulder 
to finger tip have a part in your gesture? Do your finger tips 
seem to be the leading point of your action? Do your finger tips 
describe curves, rather than make angles or thrusts? Does your 
body respond by moving now with, now from the hand? Do you 
in moving forward, backward, or sideways .with a gesture, really 
respond from head to foot, rather than tip and twist with your 

109 



feet stuck to the floor"? Does your bodily response prevent strain- 
ing of your arms backward? Do your arms swing freely into all 
ranges, high and low? Do they at times swing high in prepara- 
tion? Do they start soon enough to permit a free, full motion? 
Do your gestures, generally, freely reveal the opened palms? (Do 
not try to hold the fingers in any position, and especially do not 
hold the thumb down.) Do your hands sometimes take a prone 
position? Can you straighten your arm and open your hand at 
the finish of a gesture without a jerk or stab? Do your gestures 
disappear without flourish, doubling of the fist, or any other 
motion which catches the eye? All these questions you should be 
able to answer in the affirmative. 

In regard to the last question above, it is worth while to say 
that the way to get away from a finished gesture, is to forget it; 
and the way to forget it is to think of the next point. It helps the 
beginner to turn to another part of the audience, as it is nearly 
always proper to do. A slight turn, after the pause and just as 
you begin the next phrase, will take your attention and the atten- 
tion of your audience off the gesture, and your hands will come 
down without either stiffness or floppiness. 

This suggests an answer to a question which beginners often 
ask : How shall I respond to the natural impulse at many points 
in a speech to step forward, and yet not walk off the platform? 
There is no real danger of falling off ; but it is not pleasant for the 
audience to see a speaker leaning over or pacing back and forth 
on the very edge. A man of good bearing can easily step back 
while speaking, but he rarely has to give the matter attention. 
Being free in his movements, his feet adjust themselves under 
him as he turns from side to side. These movemnts may carry 
him forward or backward. The dropping back of one foot after 
the other may carry him back a considerable distance in a single 
sentence, yet no one notices. Ordinarily these adjustments are 
slight, and the beginner must not suppose that he should be con- 
stantly moving about. Often the first freedom shows itself in rest- 
less movements which make the observer want to cry out, ' ' Stand 
still!" 

But there are usually many places where a wide-awake 
speaker will have a true impulse to move forward ; as where the 

110 



thought is particularly positive and direct. Such movements are 
themselves expressive gestures. At times the speaker steps toward 
the right or the left side of his audience, perhaps as he takes up a 
new point. Such a movement may help a speaker to get away 
from a completed climax or a certain feeling or attitude, even from 
a high pitch of voice. The change helps in getting a new start, 
nearer the colloquial ; and relieves both speaker and audience from 
the tiresome effect produced by one who stands stock-still. 

It will be well for you to give some attention to movements on 
the platform other than those intended to be expressive. As a 
matter of fact, every move from the time your audience first sees 
you stepping forward till you disappear, may influence the suc- 
cess of your speech. To step to the front without strut or slouch, 
without attracting any attention to how you do it, yet with an air 
which says, "I have business with you," is to have made a good 
start. A few "don'ts" are in order: Don't follow a big curve in 
walking forward; and don't, on the other hand, stride down the 
back of the platform and turn front with a military swing. "A 
straight line is the shortest distance between two points. ' ' If open 
to you, follow this line to a position well forward. If you can do 
so without twisting your neck, look at the audience as you come 
forward. The position of a chairman, and perhaps other persons on 
the platform, may modify any suggestions made. 

The chair is to be recognized with a "Mr. Chairman," or a 
bow, or both. This recognition may be given from the side of the 
platform, or one may walk to the front and then turn to the chair- 
man. The audience too should be recognized. To say "Ladies and 
Gentlemen, ' ' is not only good form ; it helps the speaker strike the 
conversational note, provided he makes the salutation genuine. The 
objection some make to the use of this salutation by a student 
speaker seems to me to spring from a feeling that his speaking is 
necessarily unreal. It is, of course, good form to merely bow. But 
one hesitates to use the word ' ' bow, ' ' so suggestive is it of the pro- 
found obeisances which, however appropriate for actors and 
musicians, are certainly absurd for public speakers. If the young 
speaker will always think of his bow as a genuine salutation, such 
as he might give an individual for whom he has respect, he will not 
go far wrong. He will almost certainly go right, if he has gained 
good bearing. 

Ill 



Some young speakers are loath to recognize the audience in 
any way; but they would not begin a casual conversation with a 
friend on the street without some salutation, nor leave off without 
some form of farewell. It is certainly fitting for young speakers to 
show respect for their audiences; old speakers are scrupulously 
polite. One must, of course, adapt one's self to the occasion. 

I wish to add a few more ' ' don 'ts : " Do not address every 
imaginable division of your audience; as, "Mr. Chairman, Mem- 
bers of the Republican League of Jonesville, Citizens of Jonesville, 
Ladies and Gentlemen, and others." There may be special reason 
for distinguishing some group present, but ordinarily not unless 
it is present as a group. Do not address the "Honorable Judges" 
at a debate, if they are scattered among the audience. Do not- 
waste your time with repeated addresses to anybody, unless you 
have some purpose to serve. Do not say in conclusion, "I thank 
you," unless there is some peculiar reason for so doing. It is in 
most cases an affectation. 

Many valuable suggestions will be found in Smith's Reading 
and Speaking, pp. 95-107, in regard to gesture and platform man- 
ners. Some points are slightly in conflict with what I have said, 
and some you will note I have borrowed. The whole book, with the 
exception of the discussion of the exceedingly mechanical Mandeville 
system, is packed with common sense suggestions for speakers. 

I recommend the further reading of Fulton and Trueblood's 
Practical Elocution, pp. 335-348. These pages are valuable as show- 
ing what gestures should not be made. Note particularly the possi- 
bility of suggesting many actions which cannot be fully carried out. 

A text which gives the most definite and mechanical directions 
for gesture is Bacon's Manual of Gesture. I would not put such a 
book in a beginner's hands; but after one is well started in his de- 
velopment it may serve a purpose by helping in self-criticism, 
especially in breaking up limiting habits. At the same stage one 
may receive benefit from observing speakers. 

It may be well in conclusion, to guard against misunderstand- 
ing. One can hardly discuss this subject without seeming to reduce 
it to a mechanical basis. Nothing is further from my intention 
than to conventionalize action. This chapter contemplates a long 
course of training. First, there must be the natural impulse. This 

112 



must be permitted to work without restraint. The muscles must be- 
come responsive. Then it is safe to give more definite suggestions; 
but these should not be Avorked upon until the student catches th& 
feeling of gesture expression. And note well, these suggestions and 
the exercises are strictly for training. It is not intended that the 
speaker upon the platform should be thinking of these matters. 
And even in his training they are to be subordinated as far as possi- 
ble. After a time the student of speaking develops a sort of double 
consciousness, — one to watch what the other does. 



I have little to say on voice training. In a sense all training in 
delivery is voice training ; but special work is needed to strengthen 
and develop the voice to meet the demands of the platform, and to 
remove positive defects. This work can hardly be done without a 
competent teacher. I will, however, give two references : Mind and 
Voice by S. S. Curry, Ph. D., Litt. D., President of the School of 
Expression, Boston ; and Voice Production by Wesley Mills, M. D.,. 
Professor of Physiology in McGill University. 



113 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE STUDY AND DELIVERY OF SELECTIONS. 

The practice of delivering declamations as a means of learning 
to speak in public is an ancient one. It is the custom in most 
courses in public speaking to begin with declamations and continue 
for at least a year ; and much can be said for the practice. But it 
has been our practice at Cornell for several years to begin and end 
with the original speech. The reasons, briefly stated, are these : We 
believe that a beginner more quickly realizes the nature and pur- 
pose of public speech, if he is called upon to win the attention and 
assent of his class to his own ideas upon some topic of first-hand 
interest, than if he is asked to interpret the words of another. He 
is much less likely to gain as his first impression, the belief that he 
speaks to make an exhibition of his powers. With his own ideas, 
put in his own words and said in his own way, he is more likely to 
catch the truth that public speech is only enlarged private speech. 
Let him start very close to actual conversation, and then build up 
his delivery to meet the demands of the platform. Once he is able 
really to speak to his audience, he can safely attempt more elaborate 
speeches. 

But we do not go far without wishing for some of the benefits 
to be secured from declamations. In the first place, most students 
are accustomed to express but a limited range of ideas ; and at first 
they are unwilling to express those freely and vigorously. And 
they often fail to put their ideas in language that will ''speak." 
In short, they frequently fail to prepare speeches that permit good 
delivery. And they write to their delivery in such a way as to in- 
tensify their faults. Given a good selection, once they have realized 
what public speaking is, they will often speak with more freedom 
and confidence, even with more earnestness, and nearly always with 
more force, than with their own matter; provided there is thorough 
assimilation. From a good selection the student may catch some- 
thing of the spirit and style of good speeches. The ability to master 
and deliver effectively the words of another is of itself worth while. 

114 



A speaker frequently wishes to quote or to read a passage. At such 
times the audience rarely listens well; but good reading should be 
as direct in its tone and as easy to listen to as other delivery. We 
take up selections for the sake of their effect upon public speaking ; 
but the improvement in oral reading is a valuable "by-product." 
Professor Corson has told us that oral reading is one of the best 
methods of studying literature. (See his Voice and Spiritual Edu- 
cation.) Furthermore, it is no child's play really to master a good 
piece of prose, and there is a benefit in the thorough-going analysis 
required, only less important than the development which comes 
from the effort to express the strong and varied ideas of good selec- 
tions. This work appeals to the instructor because it gives him the 
most definite basis for effectual "drill." Without taking space to 
develop these reasons, it may be said experience proves that work 
with selections is valuable in a course in public speaking. After the 
course is well started, it has proved best to alternate this study with 
original speeches, so that the two kinds of work may supplement 
each other. 

I substitute the word selection for declamation; because, first, 
the latter has an unpleasant connotation, and secondly, because I 
depart considerably from the usual practice of declamation. I do 
not believe that in a course in public speaking it is best, certainly 
not at first, for students to practice impersonation, to speak as 
Webster in the Senate or as Spartacus to the gladiators. That is 
but to intensify the tendency to be unreal. I do not even wish them 
to think of themselves as interpreters. That is reading. I wish 
them to speak strictly in their own persons, ideas which they have 
made their own, and which they heartily believe in, and to the 
actual audience before them. I would not have a beginner speak 
the Gettysburg Address, for he must speak as Lincoln at Gettysburg 
in 1863. How can we expect him to be genuine? 

Xo doubt many will object to this position. They say it does 
a young man good to "get out of himself" and speak as Clay or 
Phillips; it enlarges his outlook and develops his imagination. 
These benefits may be sought in oral reading and in amateur theat- 
ricals ; but let us not mix these up with public speaking. It is the 
speaker's business to speak as himself; let him learn by speaking as 
himself. But can he not gain a larger outlook and develop his 

115 



imagination by speaking of ancient Rome from the standpoint of 
1911, without thinking he is Cicero speaking in the Forum? Will 
it not be broadening to discuss the Civil War as it is related to the 
present? There will certainly be much less danger of falling into 
the stilted "orating" which often makes schoolboys ridiculous. 

It is true that public speakers may at times impersonate ; they 
may even become actors for a time, as in " taking off ' ' an opponent 
or in putting a situation vividly before their hearers. They may say, 
Let us go back to such and such a time, etc. ; but they do not 
stride forward and begin without warning, as one hears shrill- voiced 
schoolboys begin: "Ye call me Chief and ye do well to call him 
Chief who for ten long years has met every kind of man and beast in 
the arena, etc. ' ' This sort of thing is really very laughable, only we 
are accustomed to it, and are willing to wait patiently, guessing 
whether Johnny thinks he is an Indian chieftain, a Roman senator, 
or an Irish patriot condemned to death. 

Whatever may be said for such exercises, they are not public 
speaking, and I cannot believe they are good training for public 
speaking; yet one hears little else in the schools but impersonation 
and dramatic recitation. ' ' Spartacus to the Gladiators ' ' and ' ' Cur- 
few M-u-s-t Not Ring To-n-i-g-h-t" are fair samples of what is being 
called public speaking in the schools. War and bloodshed are most 
popular. I attended a school contest not long ago which was a 
veritable shambles. To mj T imagination now that platform carpet 
seems fairly oozy with gore. Only two selections could be consid- 
ered as bearing any resemblance to public speaking. One was an 
impassioned plea for free immigration, based on the needs of a new 
country and justice to those who had fled from our oppression. We 
were finally able to guess that the speaker thought he was speaking 
soon after the Revolution and pleading that the banished loyalists be 
allowed to come back. It was quite natural, of course, that he should 
not think it his business to address himself to us. Another speech 
seemed to be a particularly severe denunciation of everybody in 
sight, but as the chief offender was addressed as "My lord," we kept 
calm. 

Surely that sort of absurdity is not necessary. I believe such 
speaking does more harm than good, and goes far to establish the 
bad habits which students bring to college. Even a high school stu- 

116 



dent may well take notice that General Weyler is no longer butcher- 
ing the innocent Cubans and that a Chinese exclusion act was 
passed some time ago. 

The student of public speaking will still have liberties enough. 
He may do anything which any genuine speaker may. He may dis- 
cuss any topic known among men, so long as he keeps his feet on the 
platform and remembers who he is and where he is. After a time 
he may impersonate to the extent that a public speaker imperson- 
ates ; and after he is well started, perhaps he may benefit by giving 
out and out impersonations. I have seen some speakers benefited 
by throwing themselves into a part in a play. But I cannot recom- 
mend large indulgence in either of these lines of work as training for 
public speaking. Oral reading, in the narrower sense, is not only 
beneficial to speakers, but is also worth while for its own sake. 

It is not only those selections which manifestly call for make- 
believe on the part of the speaker, that I would put under the ban 
for our purpose ; but also those which because of their point of view 
are essentially unfitted to a given speaker. Such a speech is Grady 's 
"New South" for a northern student. It is distinctly the speech 
of a southern man. Then there are many which, while still as true 
as ever, are quite out of touch with today. There are many good 
speeches on imperialism which seem to belong only to the unsettled 
period about 1900. There are others which sound as if they might 
have been delivered yesterday. And many much older selections are 
still as appropriate as ever. The selection at p. 41 is free from ob- 
jections on this ground. And in spite of the limitations, the supply 
of good selections is inexhaustible. 

Many old favorites are, of course, ruled out ; others may, with 
a little modification, be made as good as ever. A few allusions can 
be removed, a new illustration used, a passage peculiarly personal to 
the author can be removed or quoted, here and there a passage re- 
written, and by a variety of devices, without injuring the essential 
qualities of the selection, one is able to use the selection without 
pretence. Of course, if the alterations have to be very extensive, it 
is evident that the selection in question is not the one to be used. 
By means of such changes many good selections can be made which 
would otherwise hardly be thought of. There is a fine passage in 
Jerome's Three Men in a Boat, about lumber on the voyage of life. 

117 



By composing a few words of explanation about the story which 
suggests the passage and changing a bit the beginning, we have an 
excellent selection. 

Some seem to be horrified by such tampering with printed 
words; but there is not much sacred literature that is likely to be 
used, and most students have too much awe of books. It is really 
excellent training in speech-writing to make a good selection, cutting 
out here, remodeling there, and producing a clear, unified, strong 
speech. It is rather rarely that we find a selection of just the right 
length without some cutting. The selection at p. 41 is composed of 
paragraphs 6 and 7 of a long speech, with the excision of a bit from 
the end of the first of the two, in order to remove some allusions of 
no point today. 

Where to find good material is an ever-present question. There 
are many books of declamations, and if the student will look upon 
these as containing a few good selections and some good raw ma- 
terial, and overlook a good deal of trash, he can make them useful. 
Most of them are compiled with other purposes than ours. They are 
filled with "readings" for the elocutionists. And it must be said 
that many of the editors show much more regard for sound than for 
sense. Among the best of these books for our purpose are Shurter 's 
American Oratory of Today, Shurter 's Modern American Speaker, 
The Hamilton Declamation Quarterly, Frink's New Century 
Speaker, and Blackstone's Best American Orations. 

Many of the best selections delivered in our classes are found 
by students in their general reading. Such essayists as Stevenson, 
Kuskin and Carlyle, such speakers as Curtis, Phillips and Watter- 
son, the current magazines, and many other less promising sources 
are drawn upon. The more popular works of scientists and scholars 
occasionally furnish good material. For example, a good selection 
on Habit was recently made from James's Talks to Teachers. If 
one has his eyes open and knows the characteristics of a good selec- 
tion, he will find material every day. 

Much time is lost because the student begins his hunt with 
nothing in mind but a "piece to speak." He turns over a hundred, 
not really getting the full impression of any, and finally selects one 
that will "do." Look for a particular theme, or a selection by a 
particular author, or at least for a particular kind of selection. 

118 



In the first place, the student should look for something he 
firmly believes in. Too many look for something that "sounds 
good, ' ' regardless of content. Phillip 's ' ' Toussaint L 'Ouverture ' ' is 
remarkably good speaking English; but no one, unless he actually 
believes them, can afford to deliver its astonishing claims. That 
would develop insincerity. The speaker should not be contented 
with not disbelieving in his selection. He should feel the same re- 
sponsibility for its sentiments as if he had written it. Let him find 
a selection which represents his views at least in the main ; and then 
modify till it fits exactly. 

Given a selection you believe in, the next question is : Is it in- 
teresting ? Does it interest you? Will it interest your audience? 
Next, will it "speak"? Has it a style of such clearness, concrete- 
ness, movement and climax that it is adapted to public delivery? 
Many a splendid piece of literature is not adapted to delivery. Its 
sentences may be too involved ; its thought too subtle or too abstract, 
or it may leave too much to be inferred. Delivery may do much to 
supply the lacks, and it may be good practice at times to speak, for 
example, a selection cut from Emerson's essay on Self -Reliance, and 
do your best to make it clear and impressive. You do not necessarily 
wish a selection easy for your hearers ; make as great a demand upon 
their attention as you can successfully. But it is essential that you 
feel they are following you. 

Avoid mere eloquent bits, as perorations, which may have been 
great in their context ; but which detached are mere generalities, 
ihese often come after long discussion which made them highly 
significant to the original audiences; but alone they are almost 
meaningless. Be sure your selection in itself says some definite 
thing, in such terms that it will strike home. There are many good 
selections to prove that a selection which meets the terms of this 
chapter, can, in the space of five hundred words, put an idea clearly, 
concretely and specirically. 

See that jour selection has coherence and unity. There are 
many in the declamation books which lack these qualities. There is 
one from a speech by Grady, entitled "The Danger of Centralized 
Government," which has one paragraph on this theme and the rest 
on centralized wealth, without suggestion of connection between the 
two topics. If we are to treat selections as merely so many eloquent 
words, their use is certainly a wretched practice. 

119 



You should seek a selection which is better than you can your- 
self produce ; one which you would wish to have written if you were 
able. It should contain a clear, strong thought, the expression of 
which will draw out your best powers. Ordinarily it should be of a 
persuasive character. If it contains a story, this should not be told 
for its own sake, but to illustrate the central thought. The selection 
should be couched in good language also. You cannot afford to 
become so intimate as you should with your selection, to make it a 
part of your own thought-stuff, unless it is thoroughly worthy, 
though it need not be a masterpiece. And note that your study will 
give it a most severe test. In the process of analysis, assimilation 
and drill, every muddy thought, every weak joint, every extraneous 
idea, every inconsistency, will be detected. 

After a student has really found himself as a speaker, and in 
the process has found out his faults, it is often advisable to choose, 
not the selection which he can speak best, but one which will best 
serve to counteract some fault. Sometimes a very conversational 
selection from Wendell Phillips will help a speaker who tends to be 
too oratorical. Sometimes one whose delivery is jerky is improved 
"by a selection of unusual rhythm and smoothness. Again, a speaker 
of too great reserve is brought out by a selection which contains a 
dramatic story. 

If the study and delivery of selections is to be profitable, the 
work must be thoroughly done by a sound method. There are few 
worse practices than the mere memorizing of words to ' ' spout ' ' with 
little regard for meaning. It is about as bad as the production of 
undigested stuff in ' ' cribbed, ' ' miscalled ' ' original, ' ' speeches. The 
foundations of a sound method have been laid in Chapters II., III. 
and IV. I shall now gather up these suggestions into a scheme of 
study. It should be noted, however, that it is impossible to reduce 
all the matters which need consideration to the form of brief, 
definite statements. Many things which we take up in work with a 
class and with individuals, I have never been able to work into this 
scheme; and, indeed, they vary with each selection and each indi- 
vidual. The use of such a scheme is a great advance over the usual 
haphazard study. The average person reading over such a selection 
as that at p. 41, thinks he understands, and he may well enough for 
ordinary purposes. But mastery sufficient for adequate expression 

120 



is quite a different matter. It is the purpose of this scheme to direct 
study and to keep attention upon the selection long enough to secure 
some degree of assimilation. Each individual will, once started, be 
able to work out other methods for himself. 

There is no order necessarily best. Many processes will be 
carried on at once. The thought back of this arrangement is, that 
once having gained a general idea of the whole, we should then 
master the smaller details, which are necessary to understanding the 
larger parts. And further, the more analytical work is put first, so 
that the more constructive work of the latter part may remove a too 
analytical mood before the worker reaches the stage of delivery. 

I do not urge the use of this scheme from any pride of inventorship. 
It is a free revision and rearrangement of a scheme prepared by Professor 
D. C. Lee, which in turn was based upon Kirby's Public Speaking and 
Reading. Kirby's text was written chiefly for readers rather than speak- 
ers, but it presents a method readily adapted to our work, and is particu- 
larly valuable as bearing on the work of this chapter. It is an excellent 
book, and it contains the original suggestion for many ideas developed in 
these chapters. 

SCHEME FOR THE STUDY OF A SELECTION. 

When this scheme is used as the basis for a written report, make 
references clear by giving line numbers or othenvise. 

1. Read the selection silently until the main outlines are 
distinct in your mind. Try to concentrate your attention so that' 
you can read through with no foreign ideas intruding. Do not read 
aloud at all, and do not speak the selection until you have mastered 
it 

2. Make sure you know the meaning of each word as here 
used; the significance of each name and allusion. 

3. Indicate the parts which are echoes, restatements, or ampli- 
fications of preceding parts, and what they echo, etc. 

4. Indicate the new idea or ideas in each sentence. 

5. "What is the chief idea in each sentence ? 

6. Give the last word of each phrase or word-group. 

7. Note definitely the connection of sentence with sentence. 
Supply ellipses. Where can you make the meaning or the attitude 
clearer by adding such expressions as even, for example, in spite of, 
granting, etc J 

121 



8. Be sure you realize the feeling of each part ; that is, whether 
it is explanatory, concessive, ironical, exclamatory, triumphant, etc., 
etc. 

9. Summarize each paragraph in one crisp sentence. Use your 
own words. If the paragraphing does not seem right to you, change. 

10. Note clearly the transitions in thought from paragraph to 
paragraph. 

11. Summarize the whole selection in a single sentence as 
brief and simple as possible. 

12. Work out the thought movement, or thought chain, in 
your own words. The statement should make clear the relation of 
paragraph to paragraph, sentence to sentence, contain each link of 
the thought and preserve the feeling and attitude of each part. 

13. By means of what associations, illustrations, examples, 
comparisons, drawn from experience, observation and study, do you 
add meaning, reality and interest to this selection ? 

14. Exercise the imagination upon the selection. Describe the 
principal images which aid you in making the thought more intense, 
life-like and objective. 

15. What is the dominant feeling, or the mood, of the selec- 
tion? 

16. Where are the principal climaxes ? 

17. Take time to assimilate the selection. Dwell upon it, not 
listlessly, but with vigorous attention, until the thoughts grow clear 
and definite, the images vivid, and the feeling genuine. 

18. Memorizing. Do not memorize the words before the con- 
tent has been mastered. To memorize first is to put words before 
thought. When the above work has been carefully done, then go 
silently through the thought movement; then, still silently, clothe 
these thoughts with the author 's words. Then say the words aloud. 
Hold the thought clearly and vigorously in mind and try to express. 
Let the thought prompt the delivery. Do not at this stage think of 
making a speech ; speak as to a single person. Gradually build up 
and strengthen to fit the needs of the plaform, retaining all the 
time the essential conversational conditions: 1. Thinking at the 
moment of delivery. 2. The sense of direct communication. 

122 



If you do not find the process of memorizing easy, it will prob- 
ably be because the work of interpretation and assimilation has not 
been sufficiently well done. And if you have trouble in making your 
delivery expressive, the cause is probably the same. Go through the 
plan of study more carefully and the result will be better. Assimi- 
late thoroughly; make the thought your thought, the words your 
words. 

19. Practice much, — always with wide-awake mind. Force 
your delivery to expressiveness by repeated trials, accentuating your 
consciousness of the meaning and entering more and more into the 
spirit of the selection. 

EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

It may be noted that the above scheme of study does not spe- 
cifically call upon the student to study the life of the author or the 
circumstances under which the speech was first delivered. This is in 
accordance with the teaching above that he is not to speak for the 
author or in his place. If the student begins his study with the 
author and the situation, his imagination may be so enlisted that he 
will not be able to speak in his own person and place. But later, in 
taking up question 13, he may find help in learning to what particu- 
lar situation the author addressed himself. For example, in study- 
ing the selection * entitled "Await the Issue," from Carlyle's Past 
and Present, it is helpful to know the economic and social conditions 
which Carlyle had in mind; but it is even more helpful to know 
economic and social conditions of the present to which the selection 
is equally applicable. When I used to ask students to look up Car- 
lyle himself, I found that some could not sympathize with the selec- 
tion because they thought Thomas was not kind to his wife ! In the 
case of the Curtis selection, it is more interesting than helpful to 
know that the words were first delivered as part of a commencement 
address at Union College in 1878. It is distinctly helpful to learn 
how splendidly Curtis performed his public duty ; but this would be 
true if he were not the author of the selection. If a given selection 
cannot be understood without reference to the author's life and the 
circumstances of the original delivery, then it is evident that the 
selection should either be abandoned or modified; for a speaker 
cannot put in footnotes to make his audience understand. 

123 



i 



With reference to point 2 of the scheme, it should hardly need 
to be mentioned that one should not speak words one does not un- 
derstand; yet many are content to do this. Books of literary and 
historical references, biographical dictionaries and cyclopaedias, 
such as are found in every library, will quickly clear up many 
obscure matters. A good dictionary, of course, should be found in 
every student's room. 

Point 6. The last word is asked for simply as a matter of con- 
venience, not because it is necessarily a significant word. 

Point 8. This should be clear after reading Chapter V. I use 
the word feeling broadly. It is quite as important to recognize the 
attitude of a passage as what we should commonly call its emotion ; 
or, on the other hand, its absolute meaning. To illustrate : in writ- 
ing the paragraph on Paul's persuasion in Chapter VI., I recalled 
that I had heard quoted as an actual statement of Paul's policy, 
" Being crafty, I caught you by guile." (II. Cor. 12, 16.) But the 
commentators say this is a quotation from his critics. What a vast 
difference this makes in the reading ! It is very common to slip over 
concessive, ironical, even humorous passages without noting their 
character. It would not seem important that the student should be 
able to name the various attitudes, feelings and moods ; realization is 
the essential. But experience seems to indicate that lack of termi- 
nology hampers students in such study. Kirby (p. 47) gives 
Wundt's classification of the emotions, with additions of his own. 
An elaborate scientific classification will be found in Titchener's 
Priiner, pp. 151. 154, 234, 236, 237. The following is the greater 
part of the list in Phillip's Tone System (p. 74). It is not scien- 
tific, and one might question some of the terms used; but at least 
each is suggestive of some attitude, feeling, or mood which affects 
delivery, and the list serves to open one's eyes to the extent of the 
possibilities. 

Admiration, admission, advice, affectation, amazement, anger, annoy- 
ance, antithesis, anxiety, appeal, apprehension, appreciation, approval, 
apology, arguing, arrogance, assent, assertion, assurance, authority, aver- 
sion, awe, belittling, benediction, bitterness, boasting, boldness, calm, 
carefulness, caution, challenge, climax, coaxing, commendation, complaint, 
comparison, command, concession, condemnation, concern, confidence, con- 
tempt, conviction, courage, cowardliness, cruelty, cursing, decision, defi- 
ance, deference, delight, denial, derision, despair, deprecation, determina- 

124 



tion, dignity, dissatisfaction, discouraging, disdain, dismissal, disappoint- 
ment, dismal, disrespect, dread, emulation, encouragement, entreaty, envy, 
excitement, exclamation, excuse, execration, exhortation, explanation, 
exultation, fear, feebleness, flattery, foreknowledge, frankness, gaiety, 
generosity, geniality, grief, gratitude, horror, impatience, impertinence, 
incredulity, indignation, indifference, interrogation, insolence, irreverence, 
irresponsibility, irony, jealousy, joy, love, malediction, meditation, melan- 
choly, mirth, mistrust, modesty, mock-deference, mockery, obstinacy, per- 
mission, perplexity, persuasion, pity, politeness, praise, prejudice, pride, 
promising, protest, rage, rebuff, recklessness, refusal, regret, rejection, 
reliance, remorse, reproach, resentment, resignation, respect, responsibility, 
reproof, request, retaliation, retort, ridicule, sadness, sarcasm, satisfaction, 
scorn, solemnity, solicitude, sublimity, suspicion, sympathy, thanks, threat, 
triumph, urging, warning, welcome, wonder. 



125 



IN CONCLUSION. 

In concluding these incomplete notes, let me refer to the introduction 
and say that if anything in these pages seems to be inconsistent with the 
ideas and ideals there set forth, the inconsistency is probably due to lack 
of skill in expression. The emphasis should always be upon mental 
processes, the thinking and feeling, using these words in the broadest 
sense. The remedy for most faults and the sources of development will be 
round chiefly in these processes. We should work "from within outward." 
But we must not be the slaves of any "system." We must not let even so 
good a principle blind us to any advantages to be gained from other 
methods. There are times when we may well reverse the process and em- 
ploy semi-mechanical or purely mechanical methods of drill to supplement. 
This seems reasonable when we consider the intimate relations of the 
mental and the physical and the impossibility of clearly distinguishing 
them. But we should not be in too great haste for results and should 
delay the use of such methods and always keep them strictly subordinate 
to mental drill. It is easy to train most students to speak with a certain 
degree of good form by the more mechanical methods, especially by imita- 
tion. It is difficult to work through the mental processes; but the 
enduring results are far better worth while. Success depends less upon 
what the teacher can do, and more upon the student himself. We can lead 
him to the platform, but we cannot make him think. But we can help 
him with practical suggestions. 

A well-known writer on oral expression has recently heaped much ridi- 
cule upon the "subjective system," saying that it merely tells the student 
to "think" and "meditate," when he does not know how to think and medi- 
tate to good purpose. The ridicule would be deserved if we were content 
to stop with such vague directions. We must show our students how to 
make their thinking and meditating effective for the purpose in view. The 
"subjective" method will always be unsatisfactory to some minds, for it 
must lack defmiteness as compared with mechanical systems which show 
just how to do everything with automatic precision. However, we do not 
wish to exchange for a system which would have the student develop in his 
voice two hundred tones which he can employ, quite independent of 
thought and feeling, with the arbitrary and mechanical skill of an organist 
working his stops. Better an imperfect man than a perfect phonograph. 

The fact that I have worked out these notes, practically in the class- 
room, explains the choice of topics, the stress which has been laid on cer- 
tain points, and the manner in which I have written. I have spent more 
time than is usual in explaining reasons for the work suggested; because 
I believe that the student who works with understanding works cheerfully 
and effectually, and also that when a capable student is once convinced that 
work should be done, he will usually find a way to do it. 



126 



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